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WAR 
FROM THE INSIDE 

OR 

PERSONAL EXPERIENCES, IMPRESSIONS, 
AND REMINISCENCES OF ONE OF THE 
"BOYS" IN THE WAR OF THE REBELLION 

BY 

COL. FREDERICK L. HITCHCOCK 




PRESS OF J. B. LIPPINCOrr COMPANY 

PHILADELPHIA 
1904 



SEP 16 1904 

CLASS f^ XXo. No. 
C©PY B 



Copyright, 1903 
By F. L. Hitchcock 



■^.-Z^ 



WAR FROM THE INSIDE 



To 

My Children 

To whose persistent importunities the world 

is indebted for this book, 

and to 

My Wife 

Who encouraged and assisted in its prepara- 
tion, and who lovingly smoothed out 
many of its wrinkles, this 
little narrative is 

9lffcctionateIj> DeHtcateU 



PREFACE 

This narrative was originally written without the least 
idea of publication, but to gratify the oft-repeated requests 
of my children. During the work, the ubiquitous news- 
paper reporter learned of it, and persuaded me to per- 
mit its publication in a local paper, wdiere it appeared 
in weekly instalments. Since then the demand that I 
should put it in more permanent form has been so per- 
sistent and wide-spread, that I have been constrained to 
comply, and have carefully revised and in part rewritten 
it. I have endeavored to confine myself to my own obser- 
vations, experiences, and impressions, giving the inner life 
of the soldier as we experienced it. It was my good for- 
tune to be associated with one of the best bodies of men 
who took part in the great Civil W^ar; to share in their 
hardships and their achievements. For this I am pro- 
foundly grateful. Their story is my own. If these splen- 
did gray-headed " boys" — those who have not yet passed 
the mortal firing-line — shall find some pleasure in again 
tramping over that glorious route, and recalling the his- 
toric scenes, and if the younger generation shall gather 
inspiration for a like patriotic dedication to country 

7 



Preface 

and to liberty, I shall be more than paid for my im- 
perfect work. In conclusion, I desire to acknowledge 
my indebtedness to Major James W. Oakford, son of 
our intrepid colonel, who was the first of the regiment 
to fall, and to Mr. Lewis B. Stillwell, son of that brave 
and splendid officer. Captain Richard Stillwell, Company 
K, who was wounded and disabled at Fredericksburg, 
for constant encouragement in the preparation of the 
work and for assistance in its publication. 

ScRANTON, Pa., April 5, 1904. 



CONTENTS 



CHAPTER PAGE 

I. — First Lessons ; or, Doing the Impossible 13 

II. — The Organization and Make-up of the Fighting 

Machine called " The Army" 22 

III. — On the March 35 

IV. — Drawing near the Enemy — Battle of South Moun- 
tain — Preliminary Skirmishes 46 

V. — The Battle of Antietam 55 

VI. — The Battle of Antietam — Continued 68 

VII. — Harper's Ferry and the Leesburg and Halltown 

Expeditions 79 

VIII. — From Harper's Ferry to Fredericksburg 94 

IX. — The Fredericksburg Campaign 108 

X. — The Battle of Fredericksburg — Continued 120 

XI. — Why Fredericksburg was Lost 132 

XII. — Lost Colors recovered 141 

XIII. — The Winter at Falmouth 158 

XIV. — The Winter at Falmouth — Continued I79 

XV. — The Battle of Chancellorsville 200 

XVI. — The Battle of Chancellorsville — Continued 220 

XVII. — The Muster Out and Home Again 239 

Appendix 251 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 



After the lapse of more than forty years, I hardly hoped to be able to publish 
pictures of all our officers, and have been more than pleased to secure so many. 
The others, I regret to say, could not be obtained. The youthful appearance of these 
officers will be remarked. All, I believe, with the exception of Colonel Oakford 
were below thirty years, and most between twenty and twenty-five. 

PAGE 

Colonel Frederick L. Hitchcock Frontispiece 

The Monument . Facing title-page 

Groups of Captains i6 

Group, Chaplain and Surgeons 22 

Colonel Charles Albright 44 

Colonel Vincent M. Wilcox 50 

Colonel Richard A. Oakford 59 

The Silenced Confederate Battery 62 

The Sunken Road /i 

Field Hospital 76 

Groups of Lieutenants 120 

Major Frederick L. Hitchcock 167 

Don and I, and glimpse of Camp of Hancock's Division, Fal- 
mouth, Va 171 

Reunion I32d Regiment, P. V., 1891, on Battle-field of Antietam. 200 



WAR FROM THE INSIDE 



CHAPTER I 



FIRST lessons; or, doing the impossible 

I WAS appointed adjutant of the One Hundred and 
Thirty-second Regiment, Pennsylvania Volunteers, by our 
great war Governor, Andrew G. Curtin, at the solicitation 
of Colonel Richard A. Oakford, commanding the regi- 
ment, my commission dating the 22d day of August, 1862. 
I reported for duty to Colonel Oakford at Camp Whipple, 
where the regiment was then encamped, on the 3d day of 
September, 1862. This was immediately follow^ing the 
disasters of " Chantilly" and " Second Bull Run," and as 
I passed through Washington to Camp Whipple, I found 
the greatest excitement prevailing because of these re- 
verses, and a general apprehension for the safety of the 
capital in consequence. The wildest rumors were abroad 
concerning the approach of the victorious rebel troops, and 
an alarm amounting almost to a panic existed. Being 
without a horse or other means of transportation, I was 
obliged to make my way, valise in hand, on foot from 
Washington over the " long bridge" across the Potomac, 
to Camp Whipple, some two miles up the river nearly 
opposite Georgetown. From the wild rumors floating 

13 



War from the Inside 

about Washington, I did not know but I should be cap- 
tured bag and baggage before reaching camp. Under- 
taking this trip under those circumstances, I think, re- 
quired ahnost as much nerve as " real work" did later on. 

Getting beyond the long bridge there were abundant evi- 
dences of the reported disasters. Straggling troops, army 
wagons, etc., were pouring in from the " front" in great 
disorder. I reached camp about three o'clock p.m. and 
found Colonel Oakford out with the regiment on battalion 
drill. An hour later I reported to his office (tent) as 
ready for duty. The colonel had been a lifelong personal 
friend, and I was received, as I expected, most cordially. 
I was assigned quarters, and a copy of the daily routine 
orders of camp was placed in my hands, and my attention 
specially called to the fact that the next " order of busi- 
ness" was " dress parade" at six o'clock. I inquired the 
cause of this special notice to me, and was informed that 
I was expected to officiate as adjutant of the regiment 
at that ceremony. I pleaded with the colonel to be 
allowed a day or so in camp to see how things were 
done before undertaking such difficult and important 
duties; that I knew absolutely nothing about any part 
of military service; had never served a day in any kind 
of military work, except in a country fire company; had 
never seen a dress parade of a full regiment in my life, 
and knew nothing whatever about the duties of an 
adjutant. 

My pleadings were all in vain. The only reply I re- 
ceived was a copy of the " Army Regulations," with the 
remark that I had two hours in which to study up and 
master the details of dress parade, and that I could not 

14 



First Lessons; or, Doing the Impossible 

learn my duties any easier nor better than by actual prac- 
tice; that my condition was no different from that of my 
fellow officers ; that we were all there in a camp of instruc- 
tion learning our duties, and there was not a moment to 
lose. I then began to realize something of the magnitude 
of the task which lay before me. To do difficult things, 
without knowing how ; that is, to learn how in the doing, 
was the universal task of the Union volunteer officer. I 
took up my " Army Regulations" and attacked the cere- 
mony of dress parade as a life and death matter. Before 
my two hours were ended, I could repeat every sentence of 
the ceremony verbatim, and felt that I had mastered the 
thing, and was not going to my execution in undertaking 
my duties as adjutant. Alas for the frailty of memory ; 
it failed me at the crucial moment, and I made a miserable 
spectacle of myself before a thousand officers and men, 
many of them old friends and acquaintances, all of whom, 
it seemed to me, were specially assembled on that occasion 
to witness my debut, and see me get " balled up." They 
were not disappointed. Things tactically impossible were 
freely done during that ceremony. Looking back now 
upon that scene, from the long distance of forty years, I 
see a green country boy undertaking to handle one thou- 
sand men in the always difficult ceremony of a dress 
parade. ( I once heard Governor Hartranft, who attained 
the rank of a major-general during the war, remark, as he 
witnessed this ceremony, that he had seen thousands of 
such parades, and among them all, only one that he con- 
sidered absolutely faultless.) I wonder now that we got 
through it at all. Think of standing to give your first 
command at the right of a line of men five hundred 

15 



War from the Inside 

abreast, that is, nearly one thousand feet in length, and 
trying to make the men farthest away hear your small, 
unused, and untrained voice. I now can fully forgive 
my failure. The officers and men were considerate of 
me, however, and, knowing what was to be done, went 
through with it after a fashion in spite of my blunders. 

The regiment was one of the " nine months' " quota; 
it had been in the service barely two weeks at this time. It 
was made up of two companies, I and K, from Scranton 
(Captains James Archbald, Cornpany I, and Richard Still- 
well, Company K), Company A, Danville, Pa.; B, 
Factoryville ; C, Wellsboro and vicinity ; E, Bloomsburg ; 
F and G, Mauch Chunk, and H, Catawissa. It numbered, 
officers and men, about one thousand. Its field officers 
were Colonel Richard A. Oakford, Scranton; Lieuten- 
ant-Colonel Vincent M. Wilcox, Scranton; Major 
Charles Albright, Mauch Chunk; staff, Frederick L. 
Hitchcock, first lieutenant and adjutant, Scranton; Clin- 
ton W. Neal, first lieutenant and quartermaster, Blooms- 
burg; Rev. Schoonmaker, first lieutenant and chaplain, 
Scranton. 

The transition from home life to that of an army in the 
field can only be appreciated from a stand-point of actual 
experience. From a well-ordered, well-cooked meal, 
served at a comfortable table with the accessories of home, 
howsoever humble, to a " catch as catch can" way of 
getting " grub," eating what, and when and where, you 
are fortunate enough to get to eat; and from a good, 
comfortable bed, comfortably housed in a comfortable 
home, to a blanket " shake down" under the beau- 
tiful sky, mark some of the features of this transition. 

i6 



(^ 




CAPT. MARTIN M. BROBST 
CO. H 




r*\ 




CAPT. WARNER H. CARNOCHAN 
CO. D 



CAPT. GEO. W. WILHELM 
CO. F 





CAPT. SMITH W. INGHAM 
CO. B 



CAPT. CHAS. M DOUGAL 
CO. C 





CAFT. RICHARD STILLWELL 
CO. K 



CAPT. JAMES ARCHBALD, JR. 
CO. I 




CAPT. CHARLES C. NORRIS 
CO. A 



Wf. 




CAPT. JACOB D. LACIAR 
CO. F 





CAPT. JACOB B. FLOVn 
CO. K" 



CAPT. ROBERT A. ABBOTT 
CO. G 



First Lessons; or, Doing the Impossible 

Another feature is the utter change in one's individual 
Hberty. To be no longer the arbiter of your own time and 
movements, but to have it rubbed into you at every turn 
that you are a very small part of an immense machine, 
whose business is to march and fight; that your every 
movement is under the control of your superior officers; 
that, in fact, you have no will of your own that can be 
exercised; that your individuality is for the time sunk, 
is a trial to an American freeman which patriotism alone 
can overcome. Not the least feature of this transition is 
the practical obliteration of the Lord's day. This is a 
great shock to a Christian who has learned to love the 
Lord's day and its hallowed associations. Routine duty, 
the march, the fighting, all go right on, nothing stops for 
Sunday. 

On the morning after reaching camp I had the pleasure 
of seeing Major-General John Pope, who commanded the 
Union forces in the recent battles of Chantilly and Second 
Bull Run, and his staff, riding past camp into Washing- 
ton. He hailed us with a cheery " Good-morning" in 
reply to our salute. He did not look like a badly defeated 
general, though he undoubtedly was — so badly, indeed, 
that he was never given any command of importance 
afterwards. 

On Saturday, September 6, we received orders to join 
the Army of the Potomac — again under the command of 
" Little Mac" — at Rockville, Md., distant about eighteen 
miles. This was our first march. The day was ex- 
cessively hot, and Colonel Oakford received permission to 
march in the evening. We broke camp about six o'clock 
P.M. It was a lovely moonlight night, the road was ex- 
3 17 



War from the Inside 

cellent, and for the first six miles the march was a dehght. 
We marched quite leisurely, not making over two miles an 
hour, including rests, nevertheless the last half of the dis- 
tance was very tiresome, owing to the raw and unseasoned 
condition of our men, and the heavy load they were carry- 
ing. We reached the bivouac of the grand Army of the 
Potomac, of which we were henceforth to be a part, at 
about three o'clock the next morning. Three miles out 
from the main camp we encountered the outpost of the 
picket line and were duly halted. The picket officer had 
been informed of our coming, and so detained us only long 
enough to satisfy himself that we were all right. 

Here we encountered actual conditions of war with all 
its paraphernalia for the first time. Up to this time we 
had been playing at war, so to speak, in a camp of instruc- 
tion. Now we were entering upon the thing itself, with 
all its gruesome accessories. Everything here was busi- 
ness, and awful business, too. Here were parks of ar- 
tillery quiet enough just now, but their throats will speak 
soon enough, and when they do it will not be the harmless 
booming of Fourth of July celebrations. Here we pass 
a bivouac of cavalry, and yonder on either side the road, 
in long lines of masses, spread out like wide swaths of 
grain, lie the infantry behind long rows of stacked guns. 
Here were upward of seventy-five thousand men, all, 
except the cordon of pickets, sound asleep. In the midst 
of this mighty host the stillness was that of a graveyard ; 
it seemed almost oppressive. 

Halting the regiment. Colonel Oakford and I made our 
way to the head-quarters of Major-General Sumner, com- 
manding the Second Army Corps, to whom the colonel 

i8 



First Lessons; or, Doing the Impossible 

was ordered to report. We finally found him asleep in his 
head-quarters wagon. A tap on the canvas top of the 
wagon quickly brought the response, " Hello ! Who's 
there? What's wanted?" 

Colonel Oakford replied, giving his name and rank, and 
that his regiment was here to report to him, according to 
orders. 

" Oh, yes, colonel, that is right," replied the general. 
" How many men have you ?" 

Receiving the colonel's answer, General Sumner said : 

" I wish you had ten times as many, for we need you 
badly. Glad you are here, colonel. Make yourselves as 
comfortable as you can for the rest of the night, and I will 
assign you to your brigade in the morning." 

Here was a cordial reception and hospitality galore. 
" Make yourselves comfortable" — in Hotel " Dame Na- 
ture !" Well, we were all weary enough to accept the hos- 
pitality. We turned into the adjacent field, " stacked 
arms," and in a jiffy were rolled up in our blankets and 
sound asleep. The mattresses supplied by Madame Nature 
were rather hard, but her rooms were fresh and airy, and 
the ceilings studded with the stars of glory. My last 
waking vision that night was a knowing wink from 
Jupiter and Mars, as much as to say, " sleep sweetly, we 
are here." 

The morning sun was well up before we got ourselves 
together the next morning. The " reveille" had no terrors 
for us greenhorns then. We found ourselves in the midst 
of a division of the bronzed old Army of the Potomac 
veterans. They were swarming all over us, and how un- 
mercifully they did guy us ! A regiment of tenderfeet was 

19 



War from the Inside 

just taffy for those fellows. Did our " Ma's know we 
were out?" " Get off those purty duds." " Oh, you blue 
cherub!" etc., etc., at the same time accepting (?) with- 
out a murmur all the tobacco and other camp rarities they 
could reach. 

We were soon visited by Brigadier-General Nathan 
Kimball, a swarthy, grizzly-bearded old gentleman, with 
lots of fire and energy in his eyes. He told the colonel our 
regiment had been assigned to his brigade. He directed 
the colonel to get the regiment in line, as he had something 
to say to the men, after which he would direct us where to 
join his troops. General Kimball commanded a brigade 
which had achieved a great reputation under McClellan in 
his West Virginia campaign, and it had been named by 
him the " Gibraltar brigade." It had also been through 
the Peninsular and Second Bull Run campaigns. It had 
comprised the Fourth and Eighth Ohio, Fourteenth In- 
diana and Seventh West Virginia regiments, all of which 
had been reduced by hard service to mere skeleton regi- 
ments. The Fourth Ohio had become so small as to re- 
quire its withdrawal from the army for recuperation, and 
our regiment was to take its place. 

To step into the shoes of one of these old regiments was 
business, indeed, for us. Could we do it and keep up our 
end ? It was certainly asking a great deal of a two weeks' 
old regiment. But it was the making of us. We were 
now a part of the old Gibraltar brigade. Our full address 
now was " One Hundred and Thirty-second Pennsylvania 
Volunteers, First Brigade, Third Division, Second Army 
Corps, Army of the Potomac." Our own reputation we 
were now to make. We were on probation in the brigade, 

20 



First Lessons; or, Doing the Impossible 

so to speak. These veterans were proud, and justly so, of 
their reputation. What our relation to that reputation was 
to be, we could see was a mooted question with them. 
They guyed us without measure until the crucial test, the 
" baptism of fire," had been passed. This occurred just 
ten days later, at the battle of Antietam, the greatest battle 
of the war thus far, where for four bloody hours we held 
our section of the brigade line as stanch as a rock. Here 
we earned our footing. Henceforth we belonged to them. 
There was never another syllable of guying, but in its place 
the fullest meed of such praise and comradeship as is born 
only of brave and chivalrous men. 



CHAPTER II 



THE ORGANIZATION AND MAKE-UP OF THE FIGHTING 
MACHINE CALLED " THE ARMY." 

We remained a day in bivouac after joining the Gibral- 
tar brigade at Rockville, during which rations of fresh 
beef, salt pork, and " hardtack" (the boys' nickname for 
hard bread) were issued to the army, also ammunition. 

The method of issuing rations was as follows : Colonels 
of regiments were directed to send in requisitions for so 
many days' rations, depending on the movements on hand, 
of hard bread and pork, and usually one day's rations of 
fresh beef. At brigade head-quarters these requisitions 
were consolidated, making the brigade requisition, and 
forwarded to division head-quarters. Here they were 
again consolidated into a division requisition, and so on 
until the army head-quarters was reached. Then the corps 
commissary received in bulk enough for his corps, and 
distributed it to the divisions in bulk, thence to brigades in 
bulk, thence to regiments, and finally from the regiment to 
the companies, and to the men. A long string of red tape, 
surely; and it might have been considerably shortened to 
the advantage of all, as it was later on. 

An interesting feature of the issue of rations was the 
method of supplying the fresh beef. Live cattle were 
driven to the army and issued alive to the several corps. 



Make-up of the Fighting Machine 

from which details were made of men who had been butch- 
ers, who killed and dressed the beef. The animals were 
driven into an enclosure and expert marksmen shot them 
down as wanted. This seemed cruel work, but it was well 
done ; the animal being hit usually at the base of its horns, 
death was instantaneous. This fresh meat, which we got 
but seldom after the march began, was cooked and eaten 
the day it was issued. Enough for one day was all that 
was issued at a time, and this, after the non-eatable por- 
tions had been eliminated, did not overburden the men. 

The hard bread was a square cracker about the size of 
an ordinary soda cracker, only thicker, and very hard and 
dry. It was supposed to be of the same quality as sea bis- 
cuit or pilot bread, but I never saw any equal to that 
article. The salt pork was usually good for pork, but 
it was a great trial to us all to come down to camp 
fare, " hardtack and pork." Sometimes the " hardtack" 
was very old and poor. I have seen many a one 
placed in the palm of the hand, a smart blow, a puff of 
breath, and mirabile! a handful of "squirmers" — the 
boys' illustration of a " full hand." It came to be the rule 
to eat in daylight for protection against the unknown 
quantity in the hardtack. If we had to eat in the dark, 
after a prolonged march, our protection then lay in break- 
ing our cracker into a cup of boiling coffee, stir it well and 
then flow enough of the coffee over to carry off most of 
the strangers and take the balance on faith. 

On the march each man carried his own rations in 
haversacks. These were made of canvas and contained 
pockets for salt, sugar and coffee, besides room for about 
two days' rations of hard bread and pork. Sometimes five, 

23 



War from the Inside 

six, and seven days' rations were issued, then the balance 
had to be stowed away in knapsacks and pockets of the 
clothing. When, as was usual in the latter cases, there 
was also issued sixty to one hundred rounds of ammu- 
nition, the man became a veritable pack-mule. 

For the first month many of our men went hungry. 
Having enormous appetites consequent upon this new and 
most strenuous mode of life, they would eat their five days' 
supply in two or three, and then have to " skirmish" or go 
hungry until the next supply was issued. Most, however, 
soon learned the necessity as well as the benefit of restrict- 
ing their appetites to the supply. But there were always 
some improvident ones, who never had a supply ahead, but 
were always in straights for grub. They were ready to 
black boots, clean guns, in fact, do any sort of menial work 
for their comrades for a snack to eat. Their improvidence 
made them the drudges of the company. 

Whatever may be said about other portions of the rations, 
the coffee was always good. I never saw any poor coffee, 
and it was a blessing it was so, for it became the soldiers' 
solace and stay, in camp, on picket and on the march. 
Tired, footsore, and dusty from the march, or wet and cold 
on picket, or homesick and shivering in camp, there were 
rest and comfort and new life in a cup of hot coffee. We 
could not always have it on picket nor on the march. To 
make a cup of coffee two things were necessary besides the 
coffee, namely, water and fire, both frequently very diffi- 
cult to obtain. On picket water was generally plentiful, 
but in the immediate presence of the enemy, fire was for- 
bidden, for obvious reasons. On the march both were 
usually scarce, as I shall show later on. How was our 

24 



Make-up of the Fighting Machine 

coffee made ? Each man was provided with a pint tin cup. 
As much coffee as could comfortably be lifted from the 
haversack by the thumb and two fingers — depending some- 
what on the supply — was placed in the cup, which was 
filled about three-fourths full of water, to leave room for 
boiling. It was then placed upon some live coals and 
brought to a boil, being well stirred in the meantime to get 
the strength of the coffee. A little cold water was then 
added to settle it. Eggs, gelatin, or other notions of civil- 
ization, for settling, were studiously (?) omitted. Some- 
times sugar was added, but most of the men, especially the 
old vets, took it straight. It was astonishing how many of 
the " wrinkles of grim visaged war" were temporarily 
smoothed out by a cup of coffee. This was the mainstay 
of our meals on the march, a cup of coffee and a thin slice 
of raw pork between two hardtacks frequently constituting 
a meal. Extras fell in the way once in a while. Chickens 
have been known to stray into camp, the result of a night's 
foraging. 

Among the early experiences of our boys was an inci- 
dent related to me by the " boy" who was " it." He said 
he had a mighty narrow escape last night. 

I asked, " How was that?" 

" Out hunting for chickens, struck a farmhouse, got a 
nice string, and was sneaking my way out. Dark as tar. 
Ran up against man, who grabbed me by the collar, and 
demanded ' what are you doing here ?' I was mum as an 
owl. He marched me out where there was a flickering 
light, and sure as blazes it was old General Kimball. I 
didn't know that house was brigade head-quarters, 

" ' What regiment do you belong to?' 

25 



War from the Inside 

" ' Dunno.' 

" * You've heard about the orders against marauding, 
eh?' 

" ' Dunno.' 

" * Hand up those chickens, you rascal.' 

" I handed them out from behind my shaking legs. 
How many have you got?' 

" ' Dunno' — I had two pair of nice ones. The old man 
took out his knife and slowly cut out one pair, looking 
savagely at me all the time. 

" ' There ! You get back to camp as quick as your legs 
will carry you, and if I ever get my hands on you again 
you'll remember it.' " He said he thought he'd try and 
forage away from head-quarters next time. General Kim- 
ball was a rigid disciplinarian, but withal a very kind- 
hearted man. He no doubt paid for those chickens rather 
than have one of his boys suffer for his foraging escapade. 
Perhaps I ought to say a word about these foraging ex- 
peditions to eke out the boys' larder. These men were not 
thieves in any sense and very few attempted this dubious 
method, but the temptation was almost beyond the power 
of resistance. The best way to test this temptation is to 
diet yourself on " hardtack" and pork for just about one 
week. Then the devil's argument — always present — was 
practically true there, " the chickens will be taken (not 
stolen) by some of the army, and you might as well have 
one as anybody." 

The following story of a neighboring regiment will 
show that even officers high in rank sometimes found 
that " circumstances alter cases." The troops were near- 
ing bivouac at the close of the day, and, as usual, the 

26 



Make-up of the Fighting Machine 

colonel ordered the music to start up and the men to 
fall into step and approach camp in order (the march is 
usually in route step, — i.e., every man marches and carries 
his gun as he pleases). The fifes and the snare-drums 
promptly obeyed, but the big bass drum was silent. The 
men fell into cadence step in fine shape, including the 
bass drummer, but his big shell gave forth no sound. 
The colonel called out, " What's the matter with the bass 
drum?" Still no response. A second ejaculation from 
head-quarters, a little more emphatic, fared no better. 
Patience now exhausted, the colonel yelled, " What in 

h — I's the matter, I say, with " when a sotto voice 

reached his ear, with " Colonel, colonel, he's got a pair 
of chickens in his drum, and one is for you." " Well, 
if the poor fellow is sick, let him fall out." 

A little explanation now about how the army is organ- 
ized will probably make my story clearer. That an army 
is made of three principal arms, viz., artillery, cavalry, and 
infantry, is familiar to all ; that the cavalry is mounted is 
also well known, but that in actual fighting they were often 
dismounted and fought as infantry may not be familiar to 
all. The cavalry and infantry — or foot troops — are or- 
ganized practically alike, viz., first into companies of loi 
men and officers; second, into regiments of ten com- 
panies, or less, of infantry and twelve companies, more 
or less, of cavalry, two or more companies of cavalry 
constituting a " squadron," and a like number of com- 
panies of infantry a " battalion ;" third, into brigades 
of two or more — usually four — regiments; fourth, di- 
visions of two or more — usually three — brigades; fifth, 
army corps, any number of divisions — usually not more 

27 



War from the Inside 

than three. Logically, the rank of officers commanding 
these several subdivisions would be colonel, commanding 
a regiment; brigadier-general, his rank being indicated 
by one star, a brigade; a major-general, two stars, a di- 
vision; a lieutenant-general, three stars, an army corps; 
and the whole army a general, his rank being indicated by 
four stars. This was carried out by the Confederates in 
the organization of their armies. But not so with ours. 
With few exceptions — ours being one — the brigades were 
commanded by the senior colonels, and towards the end of 
the war this was sometimes temporarily true of divisions ; 
the divisions by brigadiers, whilst we had no higher rank 
than that of major-general until General Grant was made, 
first, lieutenant-general, and finally general. 

The artillery was organized into companies commonly 
called batteries. There were two branches, heavy and 
light artillery. The former were organized more like in- 
fantry, marched on foot and were armed with muskets in 
addition to the heavy guns they were trained to use. The 
latter were used against fortifications and were rarely 
brought into field work. The light artillery were mounted 
either on the horses or on the gun-carriages, and, though 
organized into a separate corps under the direction of the 
chief of artillery, were usually distributed among the di- 
visions, one or two batteries accompanying each division. 

In addition to these chief branches of the service, there 
was the signal corps, the " eyes" of the army, made up 
mostly of young lieutenants and non-commissioned officers 
detailed from the several regiments. There were two such 
officers from Scranton, namely. Lieutenant Fred. J. Ams- 
den, One Hundred and Thirty-sixth Pennsylvania Volun- 

28 



Make-up of the Fighting Machine 

teers, and Lieutenant Frederick Fuller, Fifty-second 
Pennsylvania Volunteers, besides a number of enlisted 
men. 

Another important branch of the service was the tele- 
graph corps. It was remarkable the celerity with which 
wires would be run along the ground and on brush, day 
by day, keeping the several corps constantly in touch with 
the commanding general. There were comparatively few 
telegraph operators that could be detailed, and many had 
to be hired, — some boys who were too young to enlist. 
Dr. J. Em.met O'Brien, of this city, was one of the most 
efficient of the latter class. 

It was Dr. O'Brien, then operating below Petersburg, 
who caught the telegraphic cipher of the rebels and by 
tapping their wires caught many messages which were of 
material assistance to General Grant in the closing move- 
ments of the war. It was he also who in like manner 
caught the movements of Jeff Davis and his cabinet in 
their efforts to escape, and put General Wilson on his 
track, resulting in his final capture. Mr. Richard O'Brien, 
the doctor's older brother, for many years superintendent 
of the Western Union Telegraph lines in this end of the 
State, was at that time Government Superintendent of 
Telegraphs, in charge of all its telegraphic operations in 
Virginia and North Carolina. He could tell many a hair- 
raising experience. He related to me the following inci- 
dent, which occurred during Grant's operations around 
Petersburg, to illustrate the enterprise of the enemy in 
trying to get our telegrams, and the necessity of sending 
all messages in cipher. They never succeeded in trans- 
lating the Union cipher. But one day an operator at 

29 



War from the Inside 

Washington, either too lazy or too careless to put his 
message in cipher, telegraphed to the chief commissary at 
a place below City Point that fifteen hundred head of beef 
cattle would be landed at that point on a certain day. The 
message was caught by the rebels. The beef cattle were 
landed on time, but in the meantime Wade Hampton had 
swept in with a division of rebel cavalry and was waiting 
to receive the cattle. With them were captured a hand- 
some lot of rations and a number of prisoners, including 
all of Mr. O'Brien's telegraph operators at that post. Mr. 
O'Brien said he cared a good deal more about the loss of 
his operators than he did for the loss of the cattle and 
rations, for it was very hard to get competent operators at 
that time. There was at least one vacancy at Washington 
following this incident. 

Still another arm of the service was the pontoniers, 
whose duty it was to bridge non-fordable rivers. They 
were armed and drilled as infantry, but only for their own 
protection. Their specialty was laying and removing pon- 
toon bridges. A pontoon train consisted of forty to fifty 
wagons, each carrying pontoon boats, with plank and 
stringers for flooring and oars and anchors for placing. 
In laying a bridge these boats were anchored side by side 
across the stream, stringers made fast across them, and 
plank then placed on the stringers. Every piece was 
securely keyed into place so that the bridge was wide 
enough and strong enough for a battery of artillery and a 
column of infantry to go over at the same time. The 
rapidity with which they would either lay or take up a 
bridge was amazing. If undisturbed they would bridge a 
stream two hundred yards wide in thirty minutes. They 

30 



Make-up of the Fighting Machine 

bridged the Rappahannock at Fredericksburg under fire 
on the 1 2th of December, 1863, in a little over an hour, 
losing heavily in the act. 

Having now given some account of the organization of 
this great human fighting machine, it will be proper to 
show how it was handled. For this purpose there were 
four staff departments, namely, the adjutant-general's, the 
quartermaster-general's, the commissary-general's, and the 
ordnance departments. The first named was the mouth- 
piece of the army. All orders were issued by and through 
that officer. It was the book-keeper of the army. Each 
subdivision of the army had its adjutant-general down to 
the office of adjutant in the regiment, who was charged 
with issuing all orders, and with attending to their execu- 
tion. He was secretary, so to speak, of the commanding 
officer, and his chief executive officer as well. Extraor- 
dinary executive talent and tireless energy were required 
in these positions. The adjutant must be able at all times 
to inform his chief of the condition of every detail of the 
command whether an army corps or regiment, exactly how 
many men were fit for duty, how many sick or disabled, 
and just where they all are. In fact, he must be a walking 
encyclopaedia of the whole command ; added to this he was 
usually chief of staff, and must be in the saddle superin- 
tending every movement of the troops. Always first on 
duty, his work was never finished. 

Two of the best adjutants-general the world has pro- 
duced literally wore themselves out in the service — Seth 
Williams and John B. Rawlins. The first named was 
McClellan's adjutant-general, the latter was Grant's. Mc- 
Clellan is credited with having organized the grand old 

31 



War from the Inside 

Army of the Potomac, the main fighting force by which 
the rebelHon was finally crushed. This was doubtless true, 
he being its first commanding officer. But the executive 
ability by which that magnificent machine was perfected 
was largely the work of Seth Williams, a very quiet, 
modest man, but a master of the minutest details of every 
department and an indefatigable worker. It was said his 
chief could wake him in the middle of the night and get 
from his memory a correct answer as to the number of men 
fit for duty in any one of the hundreds of regiments in the 
army, and just where it was, and what duty it was doing. 
When one remembers that this knowledge was acquired 
only by a daily perusal of the consolidated reports of the 
various regiments, brigades, divisions, and corps of the 
army, and that he could have found time for one reading 
only, it will be seen how marvellous his memory was, 

Rawlins was said to possess much the same quality. It 
may truthfully be said that the Army of the Potomac was 
organized and began its remarkable career in the life blood 
of Seth Williams, and it completed its work in a blaze of 
glory, in the life blood of John B. Rawlins. Seth Wil- 
liams died in the service, Rawlins came home with the 
victorious army only to die. A beautiful bronze equestrian 
statue was erected at Washington under the influence of 
his beloved chief. Grant, to commemorate the services of 
Rawlins. So far as I know, Seth Williams shares the fate 
of most of his humbler comrades, — an unmarked grave. 

I have said all orders were sent out through the ad- 
jutant-general's office. This, of course, applies to all regu- 
lar routine work only, for during the movements of troops 
on campaigns and in battle orders had in the nature of 

32 



Make-up of the Fighting Machine 

the case to be delivered verbally. For this purpose each 
general had a number of aides-de-camp. In sending such 
orders, the utmost courtesy was always observed. The 
formula was usually thus, " General Kimball presents his 
compliments to Colonel Oakford and directs that he move 
his regiment to such and such a point." To which Colonel 
Oakford responds returning his compliments to General 
Kimball and says " his order directing so and so has been 
received and shall be immediately obeyed." 

The quartermaster's department was charged with all 
matters connected with transportation; with the supply- 
ing of clothing, canvas, and equipage of all sorts. Both 
the commissary and the ordnance departments were de- 
pendent upon the quartermaster for the transportation of 
their respective stores. The wagon trains required by the 
Army of the Potomac for all this service were prodigious. 
They were made up of four and six mule teams wdth heavy 
" prairie schooners" or canvas-covered wagons. I have 
seen two thousand of them halted for the night in a single 
park, and such trains on the march six to ten miles long 
were not unusual. It will readily be seen that to have 
them within easy reach, and prevent their falling into 
the hands of an alert enemy, was a tremendous problem 
in all movements of the army. 

The army mule has been much caricatured, satirized, 
and abused, but the soldier had no more faithful or indis- 
pensable servant than this same patient, plodding, hard- 
pulling, long-eared fellow of the roomy voice and nimble 
heels. The '* boys" told a story which may illustrate the 
mule's education. A " tenderfoot" driver had gotten his 
team stalled in a mud hole, and by no amount of per- 
3 33 



War from the Inside 

suasion cotild he get them to budge an inch. Helpers at 
the wheels and new hands on the lines were all to no pur- 
pose. A typical army bummer had been eying the scene 
with contemptuous silence. Finally he cut loose : 

" Say ! You 'uns dunno the mule language. Ye dunno 
the dilec. Let a perfesser in there." 

He was promptly given the job. He doffed cap and 
blouse, marched up to those mules as if he weighed a ton 
and commanded the army. Clearing away the crowd, he 
seized the leader's line, and distending his lungs, he shot 
out in a voice that could have been heard a mile a series of 
whoops, oaths, adjectives, and billingsgate that would 
have silenced the proverbial London fish vender. The 
mules recognized the " dilec" at once, pricked up their 
ears and took the load out in a jiffy- 

" Ye see, gents, them ar mules is used to workin' with a 
perfesser." 

The commissary department supplied the rations, and 
the ordnance department the arms and ammunition, etc. 
Still another branch of the service was the provost-mar- 
shal's department. This was the police force of the army. 
It had the care and custody of all prisoners, whether those 
arrested for crime, or prisoners of war — those captured 
from the enemy. In the case of prisoners sentenced to 
death by court-martial, the provost guard were their 
executioners. 



34 



CHAPTER III 



ON THE MARCH 

We are bound northward through Maryland, the vets 
tell us, on a chase after the rebs. The army marches in 
three and four parallel columns, usually each corps in a 
column by itself, and distant from the other columns equal 
to about its length in line of battle, say a half to three- 
fourths of a mile. Roads were utilized as far as prac- 
ticable, but generally were left to the artillery and the 
wagon trains, whilst the infantry made roads for them- 
selves directly through the fields. 

The whole army marches surrounded by " advance and 
rear guards," and " flankers," to prevent surprise. Each 
column is headed by a corps of pioneers who, in addition 
to their arms, are provided with axes, picks and shovels, 
with the latter stone walls and fences are levelled suffi- 
ciently to permit the troops to pass, and ditches and other 
obstructions covered and removed. It is interesting to see 
how quickly this corps will dispose of an ordinary stone 
wall or rail fence. They go down so quickly that they 
hardly seem to pause in their march. 

We learn that the Johnnies are only a couple of days 
ahead of us. That they marched rapidly and were on their 
good behavior, all maurading being forbidden, and they 
were singing a new song, entitled " My Maryland," thus 

35 



War from the Inside 

trying to woo this loyal border State over to the Con- 
federacy. We were told that Lee hung two soldiers for 
stealing chickens and fruit just before they entered Fred- 
erick City. 

Much could be written about the discomforts of these 
marches, the chief of which was the dust more than the 
heat and the fatigue. No rain had fallen for some time, 
and the roads and the fields through which we passed were 
powdered into fine dust, which arose in almost suffocating 
clouds, so that mouth, lungs, eyes, and ears were filled with 
it. Sometimes it became so dense that men could not be 
seen a dozen yards away. The different regiments took 
turns in heading the columns. There was comparative 
comfort at the head, but there were so many regiments that 
during the whole campaign our regiment enjoyed this 
privilege but once. 

Another feature of the march was inability to satisfy 
thirst. The dust and heat no doubt produced an abnormal 
thirst which water did not seem to satisfy. The water we 
could get was always warm, and generally muddy and 
filthy. The latter was caused by the multitude of men 
using the little streams, springs, or wells. Either of these, 
ordinarily abundant for many more than ever used them, 
were hardly a cup full apiece for a great army. Hence 
many a scrimmage took place for the first dash at a cool 
well or spring. On our second or third day's march, such 
a scrap took place between the advanced columns for a 
well, and in the melee one man was accidentally pushed 
down into it, head first, and killed. He belonged to one of 
the Connecticut regiments, I was told. We passed by the 
well, and were unable to get water, because a dead soldier 

36 



On the March 

lay at the bottom of it. His regiment probably got his 
body out, but we had to march on without stopping to 
learn whether they did or not. The problem of water for 
our army we found to be a troublesome one. Immediately 
we halted, much of our rest would be taken up in efforts to 
get water. We lost no opportunity to fill our canteens. 
Arriving in bivouac for the night, the first thing was a 
detail to fill canteens and camp kettles for supper coffee. 
We always bivouacked near a stream, if possible. But, 
then, so many men wanting it soon roiled it for miles, so 
that our details often had to follow the stream up three 
and four miles before they could get clean water. This 
may seem a strong statement, but if one will stop a 
moment and think of the effect upon even a good-sized 
stream, of a hundred thousand men, besides horses and 
mules, all wanting it for drinking, cooking, washing, and 
bathing (both the latter as peremptory needs as the for- 
mer), he will see that the statement is no exaggeration. 

An interesting feature of our first two days' march was 
the clearing out of knapsacks to reduce the load. Nat- 
urally each man was loaded with extras of various sorts, 
knicknacks of all varieties, but mostly supposed necessaries 
of camp life, put in by loving hands at home, a salve for 
this, a medicine for that, a keepsake from one and another, 
some the dearest of earth's treasures, each insignificant 
in itself, yet all taking room and adding weight to over- 
burdened shoulders. At the midday halt, on the first day 
knapsacks being off for rest, they came open and the 
sorting began. It was sad, yet comical withal, to notice the 
things that went out. The most bulky and least treasured 
went first. At the second halting, an hour later, still an- 

37 



War from the Inside 

other sorting was made. The sun was hot and the knap- 
sack was heavy. After the second day's march, those 
knapsacks contained Httle but what the soldier was com- 
pelled to carry, his rations, extra ammunition, and clothing. 
Were these home treasures lost ? Oh, no ! Not one. Our 
friends, the vets, gathered them all in as a rich harvest. 
They had been there themselves, and knowing what was 
coming, were on hand to gather the plums as they fell. 
The only difference was, that another mother's or sweet- 
heart's " boy" got the treasures. 

On September 1 1 we were approaching Frederick City. 
Our cavalry had a skirmish with the rebel cavalry, show- 
ing that we were nearing their army. And right here I 
ought to say that what an individual officer or soldier — 
unless perhaps a general officer — knows of events trans- 
piring around him in the army is very little. Even the 
movements he sees, he is seldom able to understand, his 
vision is so limited. He knows what his own regiment and 
possibly his own brigade does, but seldom more than that. 
He is as often the victim of false rumor as to movements 
of other portions of the army, as those who are outside 
of it. On this date we encamped near Clarksville. It was 
rumored that the rebels were in force at Frederick City. 
How far away that is we do not know. The only certainty 
about army life and army movements to the soldier is a 
constant condition of uncertainty. Uncertainty as to 
where or when he will eat, sleep, or fight, where or when 
the end will come. One would almost doubt the certainty 
of his own existence, except for the hard knocks which 
make this impossible. 

The celebrated Irish brigade, commanded by Brigadier- 

38 



On the March 

General Thomas Francis Meagher, was in Richardson's 
division. They were a " free and easy" going crowd. 
General Richardson impressed me as a man of great deter- 
mination and courage. He was a large, heavy man, 
dressed roughly and spoke and acted very brusquely. 
French (who commanded our division) was also thick-set, 
probably upwards of sixty years old, quite gray and with a 
very red face. He had an affection of the eyes which kept 
him winking or blinking constantly, from which he earned 
the sobriquet, " Old Blink Eye." I saw General Burnside 
about this time. He was dressed so as to be almost un- 
recognizable as a general officer ; wore a rough blouse, on 
the collar of which a close look revealed two much-bat- 
tered and faded stars, indicating his rank of major- 
general. He w^ore a black " slouch" hat, the brim well 
down over his face, and rode along with a single orderly, 
without the least ostentation. The men of the other regi- 
ments knew him and broke out into a cheer, at which he 
promptly doffed his hat and swung it at the boys. His 
hat off, we recognized the handsome author of the " Burn- 
side" whiskers. He was not only very popular with his 
own corps — the Ninth — but with the whole army, and 
chiefly, I think, because of his modest, quiet way of going 
about. This was so different from General McClellan. 

On our third day's march w^e were halted for rest, w'hen 
an orderly rode through the lines saying to the different 
colonels, *' General McClellan will pass this way in ten 
minutes." This meant that we were to be ready to cheer 
" Little Mac" when he came along, w^hich, of course, we 
all did. He came, preceded by a squadron of cavalry and 
accompanied by a very large and brilliantly caparisoned 

39 



War from the Inside 

staff, followed by more cavalry. He was dressed in the 
full uniform of a major-general and rode a superb horse, 
upon which he sat faultlessly. He was certainly a fine- 
looking officer and a very striking figure. But whether all 
this *' fuss and feathers" was designed to impress the men, 
or was a freak of personal vanity, it did not favorably im- 
press our men. Many of the old vets, who had been with 
him on the Peninsula, and now greeted him again after his 
reinstatement, were very enthusiastic. But notwithstand- 
ing their demonstrations, they rather negatived their 
praises by the remark, " No fight to-day ; Little Mac has 
gone to the front." " Look out for a fight when he goes 
to the rear." On the other hand, they said when " Old 
Man Sumner" — our corps commander — " goes to the 
front, look out for a fight." 

General Sumner was an old man — must have been 
nearly seventy — gray, and his color indicated advanced 
age, though he seemed quite vigorous. He went about 
very quietly and without display. He had a singular 
habit of dropping his under jaw, so that his mouth was 
partially open much of the time. 

We bivouacked on the 12th of September in front of 
Frederick City, Md., in a field occupied the night before 
by the rebels, so the people told us, and there was abundant 
evidence of their presence in the filth they left uncovered, 
for they had slaughtered beef for their troops and the 
putrid offal therefrom was polluting the air. Still there 
we had to sleep. We marched the latter part of the day in 
the rain, and were soon well covered with mud. We man- 
aged to keep some of the water out with our gum blankets, 
and when we came to fix for the night, the men going in 

40 



On the March 

pairs made themselves fairly comfortable under their 
shelter tents. I should have explained that the only " can- 
vas" supplied to the men on the march v^as shelter tents, 
which consisted of a square of stout muslin with button- 
holes on one side and buttons on the other. Two of these 
buttoned together and stretched taut over a ridge-pole and 
made fast on the ground, would keep out the heaviest 
shower, provided the occupants were careful not to touch 
the muslin. A hand or elbow accidentally thrust against 
the tent brought the water through in streams. There is a 
knack in doing this, which the experience of the vets with 
whom we were brigaded soon taught us. Choosing 
ground a little slanting, so the water would run away from 
them, they would sleep fairly dry and comfortable, even in 
a hard storm. As for us officers who were without shelter 
tents, we had to shift for ourselves as best we might. A 
favorite plan, when fences were available, was to place 
three or four rails endwise against the fence and make 
a shelter by fastening a gum blanket on top. 

This worked fairly well against a stone wall for a back- 
ing, but against an ordinary fence one side was unpro- 
tected, yet with another gum blanket, two of us could so 
roll ourselves up as to be comparatively water-proof. My 
diary states that in a driving rainstorm here I never slept 
better in my life. I remember awakening with my head 
thoroughly drenched, but otherwise comparatively dry. 

This night I succeeded in getting a " bang up" supper — 
a cooked meal — at a reb farm-house. It consisted of pork- 
steak, potatoes, and hot coffee with bread and butter. It 
was a great treat. I had now been without a square meal 
for nearly ten days. The old gentleman, a small farmer, 

41 



War from the Inside 

talked freely about the war, not concealing his rebel sym- 
pathies. He extolled Stonewall Jackson and his men, 
who, he said, had passed through there only a day ahead of 
us. He firmly believed we would be whipped. He evi- 
dently had an eye for the " main chance," for he was quite 
willing to cook for us at twenty-five cents a meal, as long 
as he had stuff to cook and his good wife had strength 
to do the work. She seemed to be a nice old lady, and, 
hungry as I was, I felt almost unwilling to eat her supper, 
she looked so tired. I told her it was too bad. She smiled 
and said she was tired, but she couldn't bear to turn away 
these hungry boys. She said she had a son in the rebel 
army, and she knew we must be hungry and wet, for it 
was still raining hard. 

The officers at this time experienced difficulty in getting 
food to eat. The men were supplied with rations and 
forced to carry them, but rations were not issued to officers 
— though they might purchase of the commissary such as 
the men had, when there was a supply. The latter were 
supposed to provide their own mess, for which purpose 
their mess-kits were transported in a wagon supplied to 
each regiment. The field and staff usually made one mess, 
and the line or company officers another. Sometimes the 
latter messed with their own men, carrying their rations 
along on the march the same as the men. This was dis- 
couraged by the government, but it proved the only way 
to be sure of food when needed, and was later on generally 
adopted. We had plenty of food with our mess-kit and 
cook, but on the march, and especially in the presence of 
the enemy, our wagons could never get within reach of 
us. Indeed, when we bivouacked, they were generally 

42 



On the March 

from eight to ten miles away. The result was we often 
went hungry, unless we were able to pick up a meal at a 
farm-house — which seldom occurred, for the reason that 
most of these farmers were rebel sympathizers and would 
not feed us " Yanks," or they would be either sold out, or 
stolen out, of food. The tale generally told was, " You 
'uns has stolen all we 'uns had." This accounts for the 
entry in my diary that the next morning I marched with- 
out breakfast, but got a good bath in the Monocacy — near 
which we encamped — in place of it. I got a " hardtack" 
and bit of raw pork about lo a.m. 

On the 13th of September, we passed through the city of 
Frederick, Md. It is a quaint old town, having then prob- 
ably three thousand or more inhabitants and a decided 
business air. The rebels, they claimed, had cleaned them 
out of eatables and clothing, paying for them in Con- 
federate scrip, and one man told me they would not 
take the same scrip in change, but required Union money ; 
that this was demanded everywhere. General McClellan 
passed through the streets while we were halted, as did 
General Burnside shortly after. A funny incident oc- 
curred with the latter. General Burnside, as usual, was 
accompanied by a single orderly, and had stopped a mo- 
ment to speak to some officers, when a handsome, middle- 
aged lady stepped out of her house and approached. She 
put out her hand and, as the general clasped it, she raised 
herself up on her toes in an unmistakable motion to 
greet him with a kiss. 

The general so understood her, and, doffing his hat, bent 
down to meet her pouting lips, but, alas, he was too high 
up ; bend as low as he might and stretch up as high as she 

43 



War from the Inside 

could, their Hps did not meet, and the kiss hung in mid-air. 
The boys caught the situation in a moment, and began to 
laugh and clap their hands, but the general solved the 
problem by dismounting and taking his kiss in the most 
gallant fashion, on which he was roundly cheered by the 
men. The lady was evidently of one of the best families. 
She said she was a stanch Union woman, and was so glad 
to see our troops that she felt she must greet our general. 
There was " method in her madness," however, for she 
confined her favors to a general, and picked out the hand- 
somest one of the lot. It is worthy of note, that during 
this incident, which excited uproarious laughter, not a dis- 
respectful remark was made by any of the hundreds of our 
" boys" who witnessed it. General Burnside chatted with 
her for a few moments, then remounted and rode away. 

Approaching Frederick City, the country is exception- 
ally beautiful and the land seemed to be under a good state 
of cultivation. In front of us loomed up almost against 
the sky the long ridge called the South Mountain. It was 
evidently a spur of the Blue Ridge. Another incident oc- 
curred soon after reaching bivouack, just beyond the city. 
We had arranged for our night's "lodging" and were pre- 
paring supper, when one of the native farmers came into 
camp and asked to see the colonel. Colonel Oakford and 
Lieutenant-Colonel Wilcox were temporarily absent, and 
he was turned over to Major Albright, to whom he com- 
plained that " you 'uns" had stolen his last pig and he 
wanted pay for it. The major, who was a lawyer, began 
to cross-question him as to how he knew it was our men 
who had stolen it ; there were at least fifty other regiments 
besides ours on the ground. But he would not be denied. 

44 




COLONEL CHARLES ALBRIGHT 



On the March 

He said they told him they was " a hundred and thirty-two 
uns," and he also saw those figures on their caps. The 
major asked how long ago they took it. He replied that 
they got it only a little while ago, and offered to go and 
find it if the major would allow him. But the latter was 
confident he was mistaken in his men — that some of the 
old " vets" had got his pig. His chief argument was that 
our men were greenhorns and knew nothing about ma- 
rauding; that some of the "vets" had doubtless made 
away with his pig and had laid it on our men. So per- 
suasive was the major that the man finally w^ent off satis- 
fied that he had made a mistake in his men. The man was 
only well out of camp when one of our men appeared at 
the major's quarters with a piece of fresh pork for his 

supper, with the compliments of Company . Now, 

the orders against marauding were very severe, and to 
have been caught would have involved heavy punishment. 
But the chief point of the incident, and which made it a 
huge joke on the major, lay in the fact that the latter who 
was a thoroughly conscientious man, had successfully 
fought off a charge against his men, whom he really be- 
lieved to be innocent, only to find that during the very 
time he was persuading his man of their innocence, the 
scamps were almost within sound of his voice, actually 
butchering and dressing the pig. How they managed to 
capture and kill that pig, without a single squeal escaping, 
is one of the marvels of the service. Certainly vets could 
have done no better. The man was gone, the mischief was 
done, the meat was spoiling, and we were very hungry. 
With rather cheerful sadness, it must be confessed, we be- 
came particcps criminis, and made a supper on the pork. 

45 



CHAPTER IV 



DRAWING NEAR THE ENEMY — BATTLE OF SOUTH MOUN- 
TAIN — PRELIMINARY SKIRMISHES 

Sunday, September 15, we broke camp at daylight and 
marched out on the Hagerstown " pike." Our division had 
the field this day. We crossed the ridge in rear of Fred- 
erick City and thence down into and up a most beautiful 
valley. We made only about seven miles, though we 
actually marched over twelve. We were in the presence 
of the enemy and were manoeuvred so as to keep con- 
cealed. We heard heavy cannonading all day, and part 
of the time could see our batteries, towards which we 
were marching. 

Towards night we heard the first musketry firing. It 
proved to be the closing of the short but sanguinary bat- 
tle of South Mountain. General Reno, commanding the 
Ninth Corps, whose glistening bayonets we had seen 
across the valley ahead of us, had overtaken the rebel 
rear guard in South Mountain pass and a severe action 
had ensued. General Reno himself was killed. His body 
was brought back next morning in an ambulance on its 
way to Washington. We reached the battle-ground about 
midnight, whither we had been hurried as supports. The 
batteries on both sides were still at work, but musketry 
firing had ceased. It had been a beautiful though very 

46 



Battle of South Mountain 

warm day, and the night was brilhantly moonhght, one 
of those exceptionally bright nights which almost equalled 
daylight. And this had been Sunday — the Lord's day! 
How dreadful the work for the Lord's day ! 

Here I saw the first dead soldier. Two of our artillery- 
men had been killed while serving their gun. Both were 
terribly mangled. They had been laid aside, while others 
stepped into their places. There they still lay, horrible 
evidence of the ** hell of war." Subsequently I saw thou- 
sands of the killed on both sides, which made scarcely 
more impression on me than so many logs, but this first 
vision of the awful work of war still remains. Even at 
this writing, forty years later, memory reproduces that 
horrible scene as clearly as on that beautiful Sabbath 
evening. 

It was past midnight when we bivouacked for the little 
rest we were to have before resuming the " chase." Be- 
ing now in the immediate " presence of the enemy," we 
rested on " our arms," that is, every soldier lay down 
with his gun at his side, and knapsack and accoutrements 
ready to be " slung" immediately on the sounding of the 
" call." We officers did not unsaddle our horses, but dis- 
mounted and snatched an hour's sleep just as we were. 
Bright and early next morning we were on our way again. 
It was a most beautiful morning. 

We soon passed the field where the musketry did its 
work the night before, and there were more than a hun- 
dred dead rebels scattered over the field, as the result of 
it. Two or three were sitting upright, or nearly so, 
against stumps. They had evidently been mortally 
wounded, and died while waiting for help. All were 

47 



War from the Inside 

dressed in coarse butternut-colored stuffs, very ugly in 
appearance, but admirably well calculated to conceal them 
from our troops. 

We rapidly passed over the mountain (South Moun- 
tain) and down into the village of Boonsborough. There 
was abundant evidence of the rebel skedaddle down the 
mountain ahead of our troops in the way of blankets, 
knapsacks, and other impedimenta, evidently dropped or 
thrown away in the flight. We passed several squads 
of rebel prisoners who had been captured by our cavalry 
and were being marched to the rear under guard. They 
were good-looking boys, apparently scarcely more than 
boys, and were poorly dressed and poorly supplied. 

Some freely expressed themselves as glad they had been 
captured, as they were sick of the fighting. 

My own experiences this day were a taste of " the 
front," that is, the excitement attending a momentarily 
expected " brush" with the enemy. Part of the time my 
heart was in my mouth, and my hair seemed to stand 
straight up. One can have little idea of this feeling until 
it has been experienced. Any effort to describe it will 
be inadequate. Personal fear? Yes, that unquestionably 
is at the bottom of it, and I take no stock in the man who 
says he has no fear. We had been without food until 
late in the afternoon for reasons heretofore explained. 
Towards night one of my friends in Company K gave me 
a cup of coffee and a " hardtack." 

Just before reaching Boonsborough, a pretty village 
nestling at the foot of the South Mountain, our cavalry 
had a sharp skirmish with the rebel rear-guard, in which 
Captain Kelley, of the Illinois cavalry, was killed, I was 

48 



Battle of South Mountain 

told. At Boonsborough we found the field hospitals with 
the rebel wounded from the fight of the day previous. 
Their wounded men said their loss was over four hundred 
killed, among them two brigadiers-general, one colonel, 
and several officers of lesser rank. A rebel flag of truce 
came into our lines here to get the bodies of these dead 
officers and to arrange for burying their dead and caring 
for their wounded. The houses of Boonsborough had 
been mostly vacated by the people on the approach of the 
rebel army and the fighting, and the latter had promptly 
occupied as many of them as they needed for their 
wounded. Imagine these poor villagers returning from 
their flight to find their homes literally packed with 
wounded rebel soldiers and their attendants. Whatever 
humble food supplies they may have had, all had been 
appropriated, for war spares nothing. Some of the 
frightened people of the village were returning as we 
passed through, and were sadly lamenting the destruc- 
tion of almost everything that could be destroyed on and 
about their homes by this besom of destruction, — war. 
Food, stock, fences, bed and bedding, etc., all gone or 
destroyed. Some of the houses had been perforated by 
the shells, — probably our own shells, aimed at the enemy. 
One man told me a shell had entered his house and landed 
on the bed in the front room, but had not exploded. Had 
it exploded, he would have had a bigger story to tell. 

The rebels, we learned, had been gone but a few hours, 
and we were kept in pursuit. We marched out the Shep- 
herdstown road a few miles, reaching and passing through 
another village — Keedysville. We were continuously 
approaching heavy cannonading. Indeed, we had been 
4 49 



War from the Inside 

marching for the past three days within hearing of, and 
drawing closer to, the artillery barking of the two armies. 
Old vets said this meant a big fight within the next few 
hours. If so, I thought I shall better know how to diag- 
nose similar symptoms in the future. 

A mile beyond Keedysville we bivouacked for the 
night, after a hard, hot, and exciting day's chase. Lieu- 
tenant-Colonel Wilcox came into camp with a great 
trophy, nothing less than a good old-fashioned fat loaf 
of home-made bread. He was immediately voted a niche 
in the future hall of fame, for two acts of extraordinary 
merit, namely, first, finding and capturing the bread, and, 
second, bringing it into camp intact, the latter act being 
considered supremely self-sacrificing. It was magnani- 
mously divided by him, and made a supper for three of 
us. Our mid-day meal had been made up of dust and 
excitement. 

All sorts of rumors were afloat as to the movements 
of the enemy, as well as of our own army. It was said 
Jackson was across the Potomac with a large force; that 
Hooker was engaging him, and that we were likely to 
bag the balance of Lee's army soon. One thing I learned, 
namely, that I could be sure only of what I saw, and that 
was very little, indeed, of the doings of either army. The 
soldier who professes to know all about army movements 
because he " was there," may be set down either as a 
bummer, who spent most of his time up trees, safely en- 
sconced where he could see, or as a fake. 

My diary records a night of good rest September i6, 
1862, in this camp on the Shepherdstown road. The morn- 
ing was clear, beautiful, and cheery. This entry will look 

50 




COLONEL VINCENT M. WILCOX 



Battle of South Mountain 

somewhat remarkable in view of that which follows, 
namely, " No breakfast in sight or in prospect." Later 
one of our men gave me half his cup of coffee and a 
couple of small sweet potatoes, which I roasted and ate 
without seasoning, 

The " ball" opened soon after daylight by a rebel bat- 
tery, about three-quarters of a mile away, attempting to 
shell our lines. Our division was massed under the shel- 
ter of a hill. One of our batteries of 12-pounder brass 
guns promptly replied, and a beautiful artillery duel 
ensued, the first I had ever witnessed at close quarters. 
Many of us crept up to the brow of the hill to see the 
" fun," though we were warned that we were courting 
trouble in so doing. We could see columns of rebel in- 
fantry marching in ranks of four, just as we marched, 
en route, and as shell after shell from our guns would 
explode among them and scatter and kill we would cheer. 
We were enjoying ourselves hugely until presently some 
additional puffs of smoke appeared from their side, fol- 
lowed immediately by a series of very ugly hissing, whiz- 
zing sounds, and the dropping of shells amongst our 
troops which changed the whole aspect of things. Our 
merriment and cheering were replaced by a scurrying to 
cover, with blanched faces on some and an ominous, 
thoughtful quiet over all. 

This was really our first baptism of fire, for though at 
South Mountain we had been in range and were credited 
with being in the fight as supports, none of the shells had 
actually visited us. Several of these came altogether too 
close for comfort. Colonel Oakford, Lieutenant-Colonel 
Wilcox, and I were sitting on our horses as close together 

SI 



War from the Inside 

as horses ordinarily stand, when one of these ugly mis- 
siles dropped down between us. It came with a shrieking, 
screeching sound, like the pitch of an electric car with 
the added noise of a dozen sky-rockets. It did not ex- 
plode. It created considerable consternation and no little 
stir with horses and men, but did no damage further than 
the scare and a good showering of gravel and dust. An- 
other struck between the ranks of our brigade as they were 
resting under the hill with guns stacked, — only a few feet 
away from us. It also, happily, failed to explode, but 
we were sure some one must have been killed by it. It 
did not seem possible that such a missile could drop down 
upon a division of troops in mass without hitting some- 
body; but, strange as it may seem, it did no damage 
beyond knocking down a row of gun-stacks and tumbling 
topsy-turvy several men, who were badly bruised, but 
otherwise uninjured. The way the concussion tossed the 
men about was terrific. Had these shells exploded, some 
other body would probably have had to write up this nar- 
rative. 

Another shell incident occurred during this artillery 
duel that looked very funny, though it was anything but 
funny to the poor fellow who suffered. He, with others, 
had been up near our battery, on the knoll just above us, 
witnessing the firing, when one of these rebel shells came 
ricochetting along the ground towards him as he evidently 
thought, for he started to run down the hill thinking to 
get away from it, but in fact running exactly in front of 
the shell, which carried away one heel. He continued 
down the hill at greatly accelerated speed, but now hop- 
ping on one foot. Had he remained where he was the mis- 

52 



Battle of South Mountain 

sile would have passed him harmlessly. Except when 
nearly spent, shells are not seen until they have passed, 
but the screeching, whizzing, hissing noise is sufficient to 
make one believe they are hunting him personally. Vet- 
eran troops get to discount the terrors of these noises in a 
measure, and pay little attention to them, on the theory 
that if one is going to be hit by them he will be anyway, 
and no amount of dodging will save him, so they go right 
on and " take their chances." But with new troops the 
effect of a shell shrieking over or past them is often very 
ludicrous. An involuntary salaam follows the first sound, 
with a wild craning of the necks to see where it went. 
Upon marching troops, the effect is like that of a puff of 
wind chasing a wave across a field of grain. 

Returning to our artillery duel, so far as we could 
judge, our battery had the best of the practice, but not 
without paying the price, for the second rebel shell killed 
the major (chief of artillery of our division), who sat on 
his horse directing the fire, and besides there were a num- 
ber of casualties among the battery men. I had seen many 
a battery practice on parade occasions with blank car- 
tridges. How utterly different was the thing in war. In- 
finitely more savage, the noise deafeningly multiplied, each 
gun, regardless of the others, doing its awful worst to spit 
out and hurl as from the mouth of a hell-born dragon these 
missiles of death at the enemy. 

The duel continued for upwards of two hours, until the 
enemy's battery hauled off, having apparently had enough. 
Evidences of the conflict were sadly abundant. A number 
were killed, others wounded and several of the battery 
horses were killed. The work of the men in this hell of 

53 



War from the Inside 

fire was magnificent. They never flagged for a moment, 
and at the conclusion were not in the least disabled, not- 
withstanding their losses. I think it was Nimm's battery 
from Pittsburg. This was the chief incident of the day. 
It was said the two armies were manoeuvring for position, 
and that a great battle was imminent. This from my 
diary. It proved to be true, and that all the skirmishes 
and " affaires" for the preceding ten days had been only 
preliminary to the great battle of Antietam, fought on the 
next day, the 17th. 

We remained in bivouac here the remainder of the day 
and night. Burnside's Ninth Corps passed to " the front" 
during the afternoon, a splendid body of veteran troops, 
whose handsome and popular general was heartily 
cheered. He was a large, heavily-built man, and sat his 
handsome horse like a prince. 



54 



CHAPTER V 



THE BATTLE OF ANTIETAM 

Never did day open more beautiful. We were astir at 
the first streak of dawn. We had slept, and soundly too, 
just where nightfall found us under the shelter of the hill 
near Keedysville. No reveille call this morning. Too 
close to the enemy. Nor was this needed to arouse us, A 
simple call of a sergeant or corporal and every man was 
instantly awake and alert. All realized that there was 
ugly business and plenty of it just ahead. This was 
plainly visible in the faces as well as in the nervous, sub- 
dued demeanor of all. The absence of all joking and play 
and the almost painful sobriety of action, where jollity had 
been the rule, was particularly noticeable. 

Before proceeding with the events of the battle, I should 
speak of the " night before the battle," of which so much 
has been said and written. My diary says that Lieutenant- 
Colonel Wilcox, Captain James Archbald, Co. I, and 
I slept together, sharing our blankets ; that it rained dur- 
ing the night ; this fact, with the other, that we were close 
friends at home, accounts for our sharing blankets. Three 
of us with our gum blankets could so arrange as to keep 
fairly dry, notwithstanding the rain. 

The camp was ominously still this night. We were not 
allowed to sing or make any noise, nor have any fires — 

55 



War from the Inside 

except just enough to make coffee — for fear of attracting 
the fire of the enemies' batteries. But there was no need 
of such an inhibition as to singing or frolicking, for there 
was no disposition to indulge in either. Unquestionably, 
the problems of the morrow were occupying all breasts. 
Letters were written home — many of them " last words" 
— and quiet talks were had, and promises made between 
comrades. Promises providing against the dreaded possi- 
bilities of the morrow. " If the worst happens, Jack." 

" Yes, Ned, send word to mother and to , and these ; 

she will prize them," and so directions were interchanged 
that meant so much. 

I can never forget the quiet words of Colonel Oakford, 
as he inquired very particularly if my roster of the officers 
and men of the regiment was complete, for, said he, with a 
smile, " We shall not all be here to-morrow night." 

Now to resume the story of the battle. We were on the 
march about six o'clock and moved, as I thought, rather 
leisurely for upwards of two miles, crossing Antietam 
creek, which our men waded nearly waist deep, emerging, 
of course, soaked through, our first experience of this kind. 
It was a hot morning and, therefore, the only ill effects of 
this wading was the discomfort to the men of marching 
with soaked feet. It was now quite evident that a great 
battle was in progress. A deafening pandemonium of 
cannonading, with shrieking and bursting shells, filled the 
air beyond us, towards which we were marching. An oc- 
casional shell whizzed by or over, reminding us that we 
were rapidly approaching the " debatable ground." Soon 
we began to hear a most ominous sound which we had 
never before heard, except in the far distance at South 

56 



The Battle of Antietam 

Mountain, namely, the rattle of musketry. It had none 
of the deafening bluster of the cannonading- so terrifying 
to new troops, but to those who had once experienced its 
effect, it was infinitely more to be dreaded. The fatalities 
by musketry at close quarters, as the two armies fought 
at Antietam and all through the Civil War, as compared 
with those by artillery, are at least as lOO to i, probably 
much more than that. 

These volleys of musketry we were approaching 
sounded in the distance like the rapid pouring of shot upon 
a tinpan, or the tearing of heavy canvas, with slight 
pauses interspersed with single shots, or desultory shoot- 
ing. All this presaged fearful work in store for us, with 
what results to each personally the future, measured prob- 
ably by moments, would reveal. 

How does one feel under such conditions? To tell the 
truth, I realized the situation most keenly and felt very 
uncomfortable. Lest there might be some undue mani- 
festation of this feeling in my conduct, I said to myself, 
this is the duty I undertook to perform for my country, 
and now I'll do it, and leave the results with God. My 
greater fear was not that I might be killed, but that I 
might be grievously wounded and left a victim of suffer- 
ing on the field. 

The nervous strain was plainly visible upon all of us. 
All moved doggedly forward in obedience to orders, in ab- 
solute silence so far as talking was concerned. The com- 
pressed lip and set teeth showed that nerve and resolution 
had been summoned to the discharge of duty. A few 
temporarily fell out, unable to endure the nervous strain, 
which was simply awful. There were a few others, it 

57 



War from the Inside 

must be said, who skulked, took counsel of their cowardly 
legs, and, despite all efforts of " file closers" and officers, 
left the ranks. Of these two classes most of the first re- 
joined us later on, and their dropping out was no reflection 
on their bravery. The nervous strain produced by the 
excitement and danger gave them the malady called by 
the vets, the " cannon quickstep." 

On our way into " position" we passed the " Meyer 
Spring," — a magnificent fountain of sweet spring water. 
It was walled in, and must have been ten or twelve feet 
square and at least three feet deep, and a stream was flow- 
ing from it large enough to make a respectable brook. 
Many of us succeeded in filling our canteens from this 
glorious spring, now surrounded by hundreds of wounded 
soldiers. What a Godsend it was to those poor fellows. 

About eight o'clock we were formed into line of battle 
and moved forward through a grove of trees,* but before 
actually coming under musketry fire of the enemy we were 
moved back again, and swung around nearly a mile to the 
left to the base of a circular knoll to the left of the Rou- 
lette farm-house and the road which leads up to the 
Sharpsburg pike, near the Dunkard church. The famous 
" sunken road" — a road which had been cut through the 
other side of this knoll — extended from the Roulette Lane 
directly in front of our line towards Sharpsburg. I had 
ridden by the side of Colonel Oakford, except when on 
duty, up and down the column, and as the line was formed 
by the colonel and ordered forward, we dismounted and 
sent our horses to the rear by a servant. I was imme- 
diately sent by the colonel to the left of the line to assist 

* Now known as East Woods. 
58 




COLONEL RICHARD A. OAKFORD 
Killed at battle of Antietani, Septemlier 17, 1862 



The Battle of Antietam 

in getting that into position. A rail fence separated us 
from the top of the knoll. Bullets were whizzing and 
singing by our ears, but so far hitting none where I was. 
Over the fence and up the knoll in an excellent line we 
went. In the centre of the knoll, perhaps a third of the 
way up, was a large tree, and under and around this tree 
lay a body of troops doing nothing. They were in our 
way, but our orders were forward, and through and over 
them we went. 

Reaching the top of the knoll we were met by a terrific 
volley from the rebels in the sunken road down the other 
side, not more than one hundred yards away, and also 
from another rebel line in a corn-field just beyond. Some 
of our men were killed and wounded by this volley. We 
were ordered to lie down just under the top of the hill and 
crawl forward and fire over, each man crawling back, re- 
loading his piece in this prone position and again crawling 
forward and firing. These tactics undoubtedly saved us 
many lives, for the fire of the two lines in front of us was 
terrific. The air was full of whizzing, singing, buzzing 
bullets. Once down on the ground under cover of the 
hill, it required very strong resolution to get up where 
these missiles of death were flying so thickly, yet that was 
the duty of us officers, especially us of the field and staff. 
My duty kept me constantly moving up and down that 
whole line. 

On my way back to the right of the line, where I had 
left Colonel Oakford, I met Lieutenant-Colonel Wilcox, 
who told me the terrible news that Colonel Oakford was 
killed. Of the details of his death, I had no time then to 
inquire. We were then in the very maelstrom of the 

59 



War from the Inside 

battle. Men were falling every moment. The horrible 
noise of the battle was incessant and almost deafening. 
Except that my mind was so absorbed in my duties, I do 
not know how I could have endured the strain. Yet out 
of this pandemonium memory brings several remarkable 
incidents. They came and went with the rapidity of a 
quickly revolving kaleidoscope. You caught stupendous 
incidents on the instant, and in an instant they had passed. 
One was the brave death of the major of this regiment 
that was lying idle under the tree. The commanding 
officer evidently was not doing his duty, and this major 
was endeavoring to rally his men and get them at work. 
He was swinging his hat and cheering his men forward, 
when a solid shot decapitated him. His poor body went 
down as though some giant had picked it up and furiously 
slammed it on the ground, and I was so near him that I 
could almost have touched him with my sword. 

The inaction of this regiment lying behind us under that 
tree was very demoralizing to our men, setting them a bad 
example. General Kimball, who commanded our brigade, 
was seated on his horse just under the knoll in the rear of 
our regiment, evidently watching our work, and he sig- 
nalled me to come to him, and then gave me orders to 
present his compliments to the commanding officer of that 
regiment and direct him to get his men up and at work. 
I communicated this order as directed. The colonel was 
hugging the ground, and merely turned his face towards 
me without replying or attempting to obey the order. 
General Kimball saw the whole thing, and again called 
me to him and, with an oath, commanded me to repeat 
the order to him at the muzzle of my revolver, and shoot 

60 



The Battle of Antietam 

him if he did not immediately obey. Said General Kim- 
ball : " Get those cowards out of there or shoot them." 
My task was a most disagreeable one, but I must deliver 
my orders, and did so, but was saved the duty of shooting 
by the other officers of the regiment bravely rallying their 
men and pushing them forward to the firing-line, where 
they did good work. What became of that skulking col- 
onel, I do not know. 

The air was now thick with smoke from the muskets, 
which not only obscured our vision of the enemy, but made 
breathing difficult and most uncomfortable. The day was 
excessively hot, and no air stirring, we were forced to 
breathe this powder smoke, impregnated with saltpetre, 
which burned the coating of nose, throat, and eyes almost 
like fire. 

Captain Abbott, commanding Company G, from Mauch 
Chunk, a brave and splendid officer, was early carried to 
the rear, a ball having nearly carried away his under jaw. 
He afterwards told me that his first sensation of this awful 
wound was his mouth full of blood, teeth, and splintered 
bones, which he spat out on the ground, and then found 
that unless he got immediate help he would bleed to death 
in a few minutes. Fortunately he found Assistant Sur- 
geon Hoover, who had been assigned to us just from his 
college graduation, who, under the shelter of a hay-stack, 
with no anaesthetic, performed an operation which Dr. 
Gross, of Philadelphia, afterwards said had been but once 
before successfully performed in the history of surgery, 
and saved his life. Lieutenant Anson C. Cranmer, Com- 
pany C, was killed, and the ground was soon strewn with 
the dead and wounded. Soon our men began to call for 

6i 



War from the Inside 

more ammunition, and we officers were kept busy taking 
from the dead and wounded and distributing to the 
living. Each man had eighty rounds when we began the 
fight. One man near me rose a moment, when a missile 
struck his gun about midway, and actually capsized him. 
He pulled himself together, and, finding he was only a 
little bruised, picked up another gun, with which the 
ground was now strewn, and went at it again. 

Directly, a lull in the enemy's firing occurred, and we 
had an opportunity to look over the hill a little more care- 
fully at their lines. Their first line in the sunken road 
seemed to be all dead or wounded, and several of our men 
ran down there, to find that literally true. They brought 
back the lieutenant-colonel, a fine-looking man, who was 
mortally wounded. I shook his hand, and he said, " God 
bless you, boys, you are very kind." He asked to be laid 
down in some sheltered place, for, said he, " I have but a 
few moments to live." I well remember his refined, gen- 
tlemanly appearance, and how profoundly sorry I felt for 
him. He was young, lithely built, of sandy complexion, 
and wore a comparatively new uniform of Confederate 
gray, on which was embroidered the insignia of the " 5th 
Ga.,* C. S. A." He said, " You have killed all my brave 
boys; they are there in the road." And they were, I saw 
them next day lying four deep in places as they fell, a 
most awful picture of battle carnage. This lull was of 
very short duration, and like the lull of a storm presaged 

* This is from my diary, but investigations since the war make it 
evident that it must be a mistake ; that the 5th Ga. was not in that 
road, but it was the 6th Ga., and this officer was probably Lieu- 
tenant-Colonel J. M. Newton of that regiment. 

63 




blLKNthl) CdNhEDKKA I K HA ] I ERY IN FRONT OF DUNKKK 1.HI.KI 
SHARPSBURG ROAD, ANTIETAM 

This little brick church lay between the opposing lines, and both 
Union and Confederate wounded were gathered in it 



The Battle of Antietam 

a renewal of the firing with greater fury, for a fresh line 
of rebel troops had been brought up. This occurred three 
times before we were relieved. 

During the fiercest of the firing, another remarkable in- 
cident occurred, which well illustrated the fortunes of war. 
I heard a man shouting, " Come over here men, you can 
see 'em better," and there, over the brow of the knoll, ab- 
solutely exposed, was Private George Coursen, of Com- 
pany K, sitting on a boulder, loading and firing as calmly 
as though there wasn't a rebel in the country. I yelled to 
him to come back under the cover of the hill-top, but he 
said he could see the rebels better there, and refused to 
leave his vantage-ground. I think he remained there 
until we were ordered back and did not receive a scratch. 
His escape was nothing less than a miracle. He seemed 
to have no idea of fear. 

A remarkable fact about our experience during this 
fight was that we took no note of time. When we were 
out of ammunition and about to move back I looked at my 
watch and found it was 12.30 p.m. We had been under 
fire since eight o'clock. I couldn't believe my eyes; was 
sure my watch had gone wrong. I would have sworn 
that we had not been there more than twenty minutes, 
when we had actually been in that very hell of fire for four 
and a half hours. 

Just as we were moving back, the Irish brigade came 
up, under command of General Thomas Francis Meagher. 
They had been ordered to complete our work by a charge, 
and right gallantly they did it. Many of our men, not 
understanding the order, joined in that charge. General 
Meagher rode a beautiful white horse, but made a show of 

63 



War from the Inside 

himself by tumbling off just as he reached our line. The 
boys said he was drunk, and he certainly looked and acted 
like a drunken man. He regained his feet and floundered 
about, swearing like a crazy man. The brigade, however, 
made a magnificent charge and swept everything before it. 

Another incident occurred during the time we were 
under fire. My attention was arrested by a heavily built 
general officer passing to the rear on foot. He came close 
by me and as he passed he shouted : " You will have to 
get back. Don't you see yonder line of rebels is flanking 
you?" I looked in the direction he pointed, and, sure 
enough, on our right and now well to our rear was an 
extended line of rebel infantry with their colors flying, 
moving forward almost with the precision of a parade. 
They had thrown forward a beautiful skirmish line and 
seemed to be practicallly masters of the situation. My 
heart was in my mouth for a couple of moments, until 
suddenly the picture changed, and their beautiful line 
collapsed and went back as if the d — 1 was after them. 
They had run up against an obstruction in a line of the 
" boys in blue," and many of them never went back. 
This general officer who spoke to me, I learned, was 
Major-General Richardson, commanding the First Di- 
vision, then badly wounded, and who died a few hours 
after. 

Our regiment now moved back and to the right some 
three-quarters of a mile, where we were supplied with 
ammunition, and the men were allowed to make them- 
selves a cup of coffee and eat a " hardtack." I was faint 
for want of food, for I had only a cup of coffee in the 
early morning, and was favored with a hardtack by one 

64 



The Battle of Antietam 

of the men, who were always ready and wilHng to share 
their rations with us. We now learned that our brigade 
had borne the brunt of a long and persistent effort by Lee 
to break our line at this point, and that we were actually 
the third line which had been thrown into this breach, 
the other two having been wiped out before we ad- 
vanced ; that as a matter of fact our brigade, being com- 
posed so largely of raw troops — our regiment being really 
more than half the brigade in actual number — was de- 
signed to be held in reserve. But the onslaught of the 
enemy had been so terrific, that by eight o'clock a.m. 
our reserve line was all there was left and we had to be 
sent in. The other three regiments were veterans, old and 
tried. They had an established reputation of having never 
once been forced back or whipped, but the One Hundred 
and Thirty-second was new and, except as to numbers, 
an unknown quantity. We had been unmercifully guyed 
during the two preceding weeks, as I have said before, as 
a lot of " greenhorns," " pretty boys" in " pretty new 
clothes," " mamma's darlings," etc., etc., to the end of 
the vets' slang calendar. Now that we had proved our 
metal under fire, the atmosphere was completely changed. 
Not the semblance of another jibe against the One Hun- 
dred and Thirty-second Pennsylvania Volunteers. 

We did not know how well we had done, only that we 
had tried to do our duty under trying circumstances, until 
officers and men from other regiments came flocking over 
to congratulate and praise us. I didn't even know we 
had passed through the fire of a great battle until the 
colonel of the Fourteenth Indiana came over to condole 
with us on the loss of Colonel Oakford, and incidentally 
5 6s 



War from the Inside 

told us that this was undoubtedly the greatest battle of 
the war thus far, and that we probably would never have 
such another. 

After getting into our new position, I at once began 
to look up our losses. I learned that Colonel Oakford 
was killed by one of the rebel sharp-shooters just as the 
regiment scaled the fence in its advance up the knoll, 
and before we had fired a shot. It must have occurred 
almost instantly after I left him with orders for the left 
of the line. I was probably the last to whom he spoke. 
He was hit by a minie-ball in the left shoulder, just 
below the collar-bone. The doctor said the ball had 
severed one of the large arteries, and he died in a very 
few minutes. He had been in command of the regiment 
a little more than a month, but during that brief time his 
work as a disciplinarian and drill-master had made it 
possible for us to acquit ourselves as creditably as they 
all said we had done. General Kimball was loud in our 
praise and greatly lamented Colonel Oakford's death, 
whom he admired very much. He was a brave, able, 
and accomplished officer and gentleman, and his loss to 
the regiment was irreparable. 

Had Colonel Oakford lived his record must have been 
brilliant and his promotion rapid, for very few volunteer 
officers had so quickly mastered the details of military 
tactics and routine. He was a thorough disciplinarian, 
an able tactician, and the interests and welfare of his 
men were constantly upon his heart. 

My diary records the fact that I saw Captain Willard, 
of the Fourteenth Connecticut, fall as we passed their 
line on our way to the rear; that he appeared to have 

66 



The Battle of Antietam 

been hit by a grape-shot or piece of shell. I did not 
know him, only heard that he was a brother of E. N. 
Willard, of Scranton. The Fourteenth Connecticut men 
said he was a fine man and splendid officer. 

Among the wounded — reported mortally — was Ser- 
geant Martin Hower, of Company K, one of our very 
best non-commissioned officers. I saw him at the hospital, 
and it was very hard to be able to do nothing for him. 
It seemed our loss must reach upward of two hundred 
killed, wounded and missing. Out of seven hundred 
and ninety-eight who answered to roll-call in the morning, 
we had with us less than three hundred at the close of the 
fight. Our actual loss was: Killed — Officers, two (Col- 
onel Oakford and Lieutenant Cranmer; men, twenty- 
eight ; total, thirty. Wounded — Officers, four ; men, one 
hundred and ten ; total, one hundred and forty-four. To 
this should be added at least thirty of the men who died 
of their wounds within the next few days, which would 
make our death loss in this battle upward of sixty. Of 
the missing, many of them were of those who joined the 
Irish brigade in their charge, and who did not find us 
again for a day or so. It may seem strange that a mar 
should not be able to find his regiment for so long a time, 
when really it is so close at hand. But when one remem- 
bers that our army of about seventy-five thousand men 
had upward of two hundred regiments massed within say 
two square miles, and that they were constantly changing 
position, it will be seen that looking for any one regiment 
is almost like looking for a needle in a hay-mow. 



67 



CHAPTER VI 



THE BATTLE OF ANTIETAM CONTINUED 

During the afternoon of this day we were again moved 
further to the right and placed as supports of a battery. 
We were posted about two hundred yards directly in 
front of the guns on low ground. The battery was evi- 
dently engaged in another artillery duel. We were in a 
comparatively safe position, so long as the rebel guns 
directed their firing at our battery ; but after a time they 
began " feeling for the supports," first dropping their 
shells beyond our guns, then in front of them, until they 
finally got a pretty good range on our line and filled the 
air with bursting shells over our heads. One and another 
was carried to the rear, wounded, and the line became very 
restive. We were required to lie perfectly quiet. We 
found this very much more trying than being at work, 
and the line began to show symptoms of wavering, when 
General Kimball, who with his staff had dismounted and 
was resting near us, immediately mounted his horse and, 
riding up and down the line, shouted : " Stand firm, trust 
in God, and do your duty." 

It was an exceedingly brave act, and its effect was 
electric upon the men. There was no more wavering, and 
the rebel battery, evidently thinking they had not found 
the " supports," soon ceased firing upon us. It was now 

68 



The Battle of Antietam 

near night and the firing very perceptibly slackened in our 
vicinity, though a mile or more to the left it still continued 
very heavy. This, we afterwards learned, was the work 
at what has passed into history as " Burnside's" bridge — 
the effort of Burnside's corps to capture the stone bridge 
over Antietam creek, near the village of Sharpsburg, and 
the heights beyond. These were gallantly carried after a 
terrific fight quite late in the afternoon. 

Our work, so far as this battle was concerned, was done. 
We rested " on our arms" where we were for the next 
forty-eight hours, expecting all the next day a renewal 
of the fighting; but nothing was done in our neighbor- 
hood beyond a few shots from the battery we were sup- 
porting. On the second day it became known that Lee 
had hauled off, and there was no immediate prospect of 
further fighting. Our companies were permitted to gather 
up their dead, and burying parties were organized. 

We were allowed to go over the field freely. It was 
a gruesome sight. Our own dead had been cared for, but 
the rebel dead remained as they had fallen. In the hot 
sun the bodies had swollen and turned black. Nearly all 
lay with faces up and eyes wide open, presenting a spec- 
tacle to make one shudder. The distended nostrils and 
thickened lips made them look like negroes, except for 
their straight hair. Their limbs and bodies were so en- 
larged that their clothing seemed ready to burst. Some 
ghouls had been among them, whether from their own 
lines or from ours, could not be known, but every man's 
pockets had been ripped out and the contents taken. 

In company with Captain Archbald I went over the 
position occupied by our regiment and brigade, the 

69 



War from the Inside 

famous " sunken road," — ^that is, the lane or road extend- 
ing from near the " Roulette house" towards Sharpsburg. 
For some distance it had been cut through the opposite 
side of the knoll upon which we fought, and had the ap- 
pearance of a sunken road. It was literally filled with 
rebel dead, which in some places lay three and four bodies / 
deep. We afterwards saw pictures of this road in the 
illustrated papers, which partially portrayed the horrible 
scene. Those poor fellows were the Fifth * Georgia 
regiment. This terrible work was mostly that of our 
regiment, and bore testimony to the effectiveness of the 
fire of our men. 

The position was an alluring one: the road was cut 
into the hill about waist high, and seemed to offer secure 
protection to a line of infantry, and so no doubt this line 
was posted there to hold the knoll and this Sharpsburg 
road. It proved, however, nothing but a death-trap, for 
once our line got into position on the top of this crescent- 
shaped ridge we could reach them by a direct fire on the 
centre and a double flanking fire at the right and left of 
the line, and only about one hundred yards away. With 
nothing but an open field behind them there was abso- 
lutely no escape, nothing but death or surrender, and they 
evidently chose the former, for we saw no white flag dis- 
played. We could now understand the remark of their 
lieutenant-colonel, whom our boys brought in, as already 
mentioned : " You have killed all my poor boys. They 
lie there in the road." I learned later that the few sur- 
vivors of this regiment were sent South to guard rebel 
prisoners. 

* Probably the 6th Ga. 
70 




SECTION OF FAMOUS SUNKEN ROAD IN FRONT OF LINE OF I32D P. V., NEAR ROULETTE LANE 
The dead are probably from the Sixth Georgia Confederate troops 



The Battle of Antietam 

The lines of battle of both armies were not only marked 
by the presence of the dead, but by a vast variety of army 
equipage, such as blankets, canteens, haversacks, guns, 
gun-slings, bayonets, ramrods, some whole, others broken, 
— verily, a besom of destruction had done its work faith- 
fully here. Dead horses were everywhere, and the stench 
from them and the human dead was horrible. " Uncle" 
Billy Sherman has said, " War is hell !" yet this definition, 
with all that imagination can picture, fails to reveal all its 
bloody horrors. 

The positions of some of the dead were very striking. 
One poor fellow lay face down on a partially fallen stone 
wall, with one arm and one foot extended, as if in the act 
of crawling over. His position attracted our attention, 
and we found his body literally riddled with bullets — there 
must have been hundreds — and most of them shot into 
him after he was dead, for they showed no marks of 
blood. Probably the poor fellow had been wounded in 
trying to reach shelter behind that wall, was spotted 
in the act by our men, and killed right there, and became 
thereafter a target for every new man that saw him. 
Another man lay, still clasping his musket, which he was 
evidently in the act of loading when a bullet pierced his 
heart, literally flooding his gun with his life's blood, a 
ghastly testimonial to his heroic sacrifice. 

We witnessed the burying details gathering up and 
burying the dead. The work was rough and heartless, 
but only comporting with the character of war. The nat- 
ural reverence for the dead was wholly absent. The poor 
bodies, all of them heroes in their death, even though in 
a mistaken cause, were " planted" with as little feeling as 

71 



War from the Inside 

though they had been so many logs. A trench was dug, 
where the digging was easiest, about seven feet wide and 
long enough to accommodate all the bodies gathered 
within a certain radius; these were then placed side by 
side, cross-wise of the trench, and buried without any- 
thing to keep the earth from them. In the case of the 
Union dead the trenches were usually two or three feet 
deep, and the bodies were wrapped in blankets before 
being covered, but with the rebels no blankets were used, 
and the trenches were sometimes so shallow as to leave 
the toes exposed after a shower. 

No ceremony whatever attended this gruesome service, 
but it was generally accompanied by ribald jokes, at the 
expense of the poor " Johnny" they were " planting." 
This was not the fruit of debased natures or degenerate 
hearts on the part of the boys, who well knew it might be 
their turn next, under the fortunes of war, to be buried 
in like manner, but it was recklessness and thoughtless- 
ness, born of the hardening influences of war. 

Having now given some account of the scenes in which 
I participated during the battle and the day after, let us 
look at another feature of the battle, and probably the 
most heart-breaking of all, the field hospital. There was 
one established for our division some three hundred yards 
in our rear, under the shelter of a hill. Here were gath- 
ered as rapidly as possible the wounded, and a corps of 
surgeons were busily engaged in amputating limbs and 
dressing wounds. It should be understood that the ac- 
commodations were of the rudest character. A hospital 
tent had been hurriedly erected and an old house and barn 
utilized. Of course, I saw nothing of it or its work until 

72 



The Battle of Antietam 

the evening- after the battle, when I went to see the body 
of our dead colonel and some of our Scranton boys who 
were wounded. Outside the hospital were piles of ampu- 
tated arms, legs, and feet, thrown out with as little care 
as so many pieces of wood. There were also many dead 
soldiers — those who had died after reaching the hospital 
— lying outside, there being inside scant room only for the 
living. Here, on bunches of hay and straw, the poor 
fellows were lying so thickly that there was scarce room 
for the surgeon and attendants to move about among 
them. Others were not allowed inside, except officers and 
an occasional friend who might be helping. Our chaplain 
spent his time here and did yeoman service helping the 
wounded. Yet all that could be done with the limited 
means at hand seemed only to accentuate the appalling 
need. The pallid, appealing faces were patient with a 
heroism born only of the truest metal. I was told by 
the surgeons that such expressions as this were not infre- 
quent as they approached a man in his " turn" : " Please, 
doctor, attend to this poor fellow next; he's worse than 
I," and this when his own life's blood was fast oozing 
away. 

Most of the wounded had to wait hours before having 
their wounds dressed, owing to insufficient force and in- 
adequate facilities. I was told that not a surgeon had his 
eyes closed for three days after this battle. The doctors 
of neighboring towns within reach came and voluntarily 
gave their services, yet it is doubtless true that hundreds 
of the wounded perished for want of prompt and proper 
care. This is one of the unavoidable incidents of a great 
battle — a part of the horrors of war. The rebel wounded 

72, 



War from the Inside 

necessarily were second to our own in receiving care from 
the surgeons, yet they, too, received all the attention that 
was possible under the circumstances. Some of their sur- 
geons remained with their wounded, and I am told they 
and our own surgeons worked together most energetically 
and heroically in their efforts to relieve the sufferings of 
all, whether they wore the blue or the gray. Suffering, 
it has been said, makes all the world akin. So here, in 
our lines, the wounded rebel was lost sight of in the suffer- 
ing brother. 

We remained on the battle-field until September 21, 
four days after the fight. 

My notes of this day say that I was feeling so mis- 
erable as to be scarcely able to crawl about, yet was 
obliged to remain on duty ; that Lieutenant-Colonel Wil- 
cox, now in command, and Major Shreve were in the 
same condition. This was due to the nervous strain 
through which we had passed, and to insufficient and un- 
wholesome food. As stated before, we had been obliged 
to eat whatever we could get, which for the past four 
days had been mostly green field corn roasted as best we 
could. The wonder is that we were not utterly pros- 
trated. Nevertheless, I not only performed all my duties, 
but went a mile down the Antietam creek, took a bath, 
and washed my underclothing, my first experience in the 
laundry business. 

We had been now for two weeks and more steadily on 
the march, our baggage in wagons somewhere en route, 
without the possibility of a change of clothing or of 
having any washing done. Most of this time marching 
in a cloud of dust so thick that one could almost cut it, 

74 



The Battle of Antietam 

and perspiring freely, one can imagine our condition. 
Bathing as frequently as opportunity offered, yet our 
condition was almost unendurable. For with the accu- 
mulation of dirt upon our body, there was added the ever- 
present scourge of the army, body lice. These vermin, 
called by the boys " graybacks," were nearly the size of a 
grain of wheat, and derived their name from their bluish- 
gray color. They seemed to infest the ground wherever 
there had been a bivouac of the rebels, and following 
them as we had, during all of this campaign, sleeping 
frequently on the ground just vacated by them, no one 
was exempt from this plague. They secreted themselves 
in the seams of the clothing and in the armpits chiefly. A 
good bath, with a change of underclothing, would usually 
rid one of them, but only to acquire a new crop in the 
first camp. The clothing could be freed of them by boil- 
ing in salt water or by going carefully over the seams 
and picking them off. The latter operation was a fre- 
quent occupation with the men on any day which was 
warm enough to permit them to disrobe for the purpose. 
One of the most laughable sights I ever beheld was the 
whole brigade, halted for a couple of hours' rest one hot 
day, with clothing off, " skirmishing," as the boys called 
it, for " graybacks." This was one of the many unpoet- 
ical features of army life which accentuated the sacrifices 
one made to serve his country. 

How did we ordinarily get our laundrying done ? The 
enlisted men as a rule always did it themselves. Occa- 
sionally in camp a number of them would club together 
and hire some " camp follower" or some other soldier to 
do it. Officers of sufficient rank to have a servant, of 

75 



War from the Inside 

course, readily solved the question. Those of us of lesser 
rank could generally hire it done, except on the march. 
Then we had to be our own laundrymen. Having, as in 
the above instance, no change of clothing at hand, the 
washing followed a bath, and consisted in standing in the 
running water and rubbing as much of the dirt out of 
the underwear as could be done without soap, for that 
could not be had for love or money ; then hanging them 
on the limb of a tree and sitting in the sun, as comfortable 
as possible, whilst wind and sun did the drying. A 
" snap-shot" of such a scene would no doubt be interest- 
ing. But " snap-shots" unfortunately were not then in 
vogue, and so a picture of high art must perish. We 
could not be over particular about having our clothes dry. 
The finishing touches were added as we wore them back 
to camp. 

My diary notes that there were nine hundred and 
ninety-eight rebel dead gathered and buried from in front 
of the lines of our division. This line was about a quarter 
of a mile long, and this was mostly our work (our divi- 
sion), although Richardson's division had occupied part 
of this ground before us, but had been so quickly broken 
that they had not made much impression upon the enemy. 
Our division had engaged them continuously and under 
a terrific fire from eight o'clock a.m. until 12.30 p.m. It 
may be asked why during that length of time and under 
such a fire all were not annihilated. The answer is, that 
inaccuracy and unsteadiness in firing on both sides greatly 
reduce its effectiveness, and taking all possible advan- 
tage of shelter by lying prone upon the ground also pre- 
vents losses; but the above number of rebel dead, it 

76 




FIELD HOSPITAL 



The Battle of Antietam 

should be remembered, represents, probably, not more 
than twenty to twenty-five per cent, of their casualties in 
that area of their lines; the balance were wounded and 
were removed. So that with nine hundred and ninety- 
eight dead it can be safely estimated that their losses ex- 
ceeded four thousand killed and wounded in that area. 
This would indicate what was undoubtedly true, that we 
were in the very heart of that great battle. 

Here I wish to say that some chroniclers of battles have 
undertaken to measure the effectiveness and bravery of the 
different regiments, batteries, etc., by the numbers they 
have lost in certain battles; for example, one historian 
has made a book grading the regiments by the number of 
men they lost in action, assuming that the more men killed 
and wounded, the more brilliant and brave had been its 
work. This assumption is absolutely fallacious. Heavy 
losses may be the result of great bravery with splendid 
work. On the other hand, they may be the result of cow- 
ardice or inefficiency. Suppose, under trying circum- 
stances, officers lose their heads and fail to properly 
handle their men, or if the latter prove cowardly and 
incapable of being moved with promptness to meet the 
exigency, great loss usually ensues, and this would be 
chargeable to cowardice or inefficiency. According to the 
loss way of estimating fighting regiments, the least de- 
serving are liable to be credited with the best work. The 
rule is, the better drilled, disciplined, and the better offi- 
cered, the less the losses in any position on the firing-line. 

One regiment I have in mind, with which we were 
afterwards brigaded, illustrates this principle. It was the 
First Delaware Volunteer infantry. It was a three years' 

n 



War from the Inside 

regiment and had been in the field more than a year when 
we joined them. All things considered, it was the best 
drilled and disciplined regiment I saw in the service. It 
was as steady under fire as on parade. Every movement 
in the tactics it could execute on the jump, and its fire 
was something to keep away from. The result was that, 
pushed everywhere to the front because of its splendid 
work, it lost comparatively few men. Every man was a 
marksman and understood how to take all possible advan- 
tage of the situation to make his work most effective and 
at the same time take care of himself. This regiment, 
whose record was one unbroken succession of splendid 
achievements during its whole period of service, might 
never have gotten on a roll of fame founded on numbers 
of men lost. How much more glorious is a record 
founded on effective work and men saved ! 



78 



CHAPTER VII 



HARPER S FERRY AND THE LEESBURG AND HALLTOWN 
EXPEDITIONS 

Neither side seemed anxious to resume the fighting on 
the 1 8th, though there was picket firing and some cannon- 
ading. We remained the next day where the darkness 
found us after the battle, ready and momentarily expect- 
ing to resume the work. All sorts of rumors were afloat 
as to the results of the battle, also as to future movements. 
Whether we had won a great victory and were to press 
immediately forward to reap the fullest benefit of it, or 
whether it was practically a drawn battle, with the possi- 
bilities of an early retreat, we did not then know. We 
had no idea of what the name of the battle would be. My 
diary calls it the battle of " Meyer's Spring," from that 
magnificent fountain, on our line of battle, described in 
the last chapter. The Confederates named it the battle of 
Sharpsburg, from the village of that name on the right 
of their line. Two days later, after the rebels had hauled 
off — which they did very leisurely the next day and night 
— we received " Little Mac's" congratulatory order on the 
great victory achieved at " Antietam." 

So far as our part of the battle was concerned, we knew 
we had the best of it. We had cleaned up everything in 
our front, and the " chip was still serenely resting on our 

79 



War from the Inside 

shoulder." But what had been the outcome elsewhere on 
the line we did not know. That our army had been terrific- 
ally battered was certain. Our own losses indicated this. 
We were therefore both relieved and rejoiced on receiving 
the congratulatory order. I confess to have had some 
doubts about the extent of the victory, and whether, had 
Lee remained and shown fight, we would not have re- 
peated the old story and " retired in good order." As it 
was, the tide had evidently turned, and the magnificent old 
Army of the Potomac, after so many drubbings, had been 
able to score its first decisive victory. 

On the twenty-second day of September we were again 
on the march, our regiment reduced in numbers, from 
casualties in the battle and from sickness, by nearly three 
hundred men. Lieutenant-Colonel Wilcox was now in 
command. The body of our late colonel had been shipped 
to Scranton under guard of Privates S. P. Snyder and 
Charles A. Meylert, Company K, the " exigencies of the 
service" permitting of no larger detail nor any officer to 
accompany it. 

We were told the army was bound for Harper's Ferry, 
distant some eight to ten miles. We passed through the 
village of Sharpsburg — what there was left of it. It had 
been occupied by the rebels as the extreme right of their 
line on the morning of the battle. It presented abundant 
evidence of having been well in the zone of the fight. Its 
buildings were riddled with shells, and confusion seemed 
to reign supreme. We learned that Burnside, with the 
left wing of the army, had a very hot argument with Lee's 
right during the afternoon for the possession of the stone 
bridge over Antietam creek at the foot of the hill entering 

80 



Harper's Ferry 

the village; that after two repulses with heavy loss, Col- 
onel Hartranft( afterwards Governor of Pennsylvania) led 
his regiment, the Fifty-first Pennsylvania Volunteers and 
the Fifty-first New York, in a magnificent charge and car- 
ried the bridge and the heights above, and Sharpsburg was 
ours. If any one would like to get an idea of what terrific 
work that charge was they should examine that bridge and 
the heights on the Sharpsburg side. The latter rise almost 
perpendicularly more than three hundred feet. One of 
the " boys" who went over that bridge and up those 
heights in that memorable charge was Private Edward 
L. Buck, Fifty-first Pennsylvania Volunteers, formerly 
Assistant Postmaster of Scranton, and ever since the war 
a prominent citizen of this city. That bridge is now 
known as *' Burnside's Bridge." Forty-one years after- 
wards, I passed over it, and was shown a shell still sticking 
in the masonry of one of the arches. It was a conical 
shell probably ten inches long, about half of it left pro- 
truding. 

Little of special interest occurred on this march until 
we reached the Potomac, a short distance above Harper's 
Ferry. Here we were shown the little round house where 
John Brown concealed his guns and " pikes" prior to his 
famous raid three years before. This was his rendezvous 
on the night before his ill-starred expedition descended 
upon the State of Virginia and the South, in an insane 
effort to free the slaves. Our division was headed by 
the Fourteenth Connecticut, and as we approached the 
river opposite Harper's Ferry its fine band struck up the 
then new and popular air, " John Brown's Body," and 
the whole division took up the song, and we forded the 
6 8i 



War from the Inside 

river singing it. Slavery had destroyed the Kansas home 
of old John Brown, had murdered his sons, and un- 
doubtedly driven him insane, because of his anti-slavery 
zeal. The great State of Virginia — the " Mother of 
Presidents" — had vindicated her loyalty to the " pecu- 
liar institution," and, let it be added, her own spotless 
chivalry, by hanging this poor, crazy fanatic for high 
treason! Was there poetic justice in our marching into 
the territory where these events transpired singing: 

" John Brown's body lies a mouldering in the grave, 
His soul goes marching on?" 

This couplet, 

" We'll hang Jeff Davis to a sour apple-tree," 

was sung with peculiar zest, though I never quite under- 
stood what the poet had against the sour apple-tree. 

We marched through the quaint old town of Harper's 
Ferry, whose principal industry had been the government 
arsenal for the manufacture of muskets and other army 
ordnance. These buildings were now a mass of ruins, and 
the remainder of the town presented the appearance of a 
plucked goose, as both armies had successively captured 
and occupied it. We went into camp on a high plateau 
back of the village known as Bolivar Heights. The 
scenic situation at Harper's Ferry is remarkably grand. 
The town is situated on the tongue or fork of land at the 
junction of the Potomac and Shenandoah rivers. From 
the point where the rivers join, the land rises rapidly until 
the summit of Bolivar Heights is reached, several hun- 
dred feet above the town, from which a view is had of 
one of the most lovely valleys to be found anywhere in 

82 



Harper's Ferry 

the world — the Shenandoah Valley. Across the Potomac 
to the east and facing Harper's Ferry rises Maryland 
Heights, a bluff probably a thousand feet high, while 
across the Shenandoah to the right towers another pre- 
cipitous bluff of about equal height called Loudon Heights. 
Both of these bluffs commanded Bolivar Heights and Har- 
per's Ferry. 

It was the sudden and unexpected appearance of Stone- 
wall Jackson's batteries upon both of these supposed in- 
accessible bluffs that ten days before had forced the sur- 
render of the garrison of ten thousand Union troops which 
had been posted here to hold Harper's Ferry. It was said 
that the rain of shot and shell from those bluffs down 
upon our forces was simply merciless, and Jackson had 
cut off all avenues of escape before opening his batteries. 
The cavalry, I believe, cut their way out, but the infantry, 
after twenty-four hours of that storm of shot and shell, 
were forced to hoist the white flag. How they could have 
lived half that time in such a hell of fire is a marvel. 
Everything above ground bore evidence of this fire. 
There were unexploded shells lying about in great num- 
bers. 

An incident that might have been anything but funny 
occurred the day after we encamped here. A new regi- 
ment joined the army and marched past our division to a 
point farther up the heights and went into camp. They 
were a fine-looking regiment, full in numbers, and with 
new, clean uniforms. Their reception at the hands of the 
" vets" was very like our own three weeks before. Our 
boys, however, were " vets" now, and joined in the " re- 
ception" with a zest quite usual under such circumstances. 

83 



War from the Inside 

However, the " tenderfeet" incident had passed, and we 
were preparing our evening meal, when bang! bang! 
bang! bang! rang out a half-dozen shots in quick suc- 
cession. Every man jumped as though the whole rebel 
army was upon us. It was soon discovered that the explo- 
sions came from the camp of the " tenderfeet." Some of 
those greenhorns had gathered a number of those unex- 
ploded shells, set them up on end for a fireplace, and were 
quietly boiling their coffee over them when they, of 
course, exploded. Why none of them were seriously 
injured was a miracle. At the moment of explosion no 
one happened to be very near the fire. A moment before 
a dozen men had been standing over it. Does Providence 
graciously look out for the tenderfoot? Some of them, 
I fear, were made to feel that they would rather be dead 
than take the guying they got for this evidence of their 
verdancy. 

Camp life at Bolivar Heights soon resolved itself into 
the usual routine of drill and picket duty. How many 
corps of the army were encamped here I did not know, 
but we were a vast city of soldiers, and there was no end 
of matters to occupy attention when off duty. These in- 
cluded bathing expeditions to the Shenandoah, a mile and 
a half away ; the " doing" of the quaint old town of 
Harper's Ferry, and rambles up Maryland and Loudon 
Heights, both of which were now occupied by our troops. 
This was our first experience in a large encampment in 
the field. One feature of it was exceedingly beautiful, 
and that was its system of " calls." The cavalry and 
artillery were encamped on one side of us. Each 
battery of artillery and battalion of cavalry had its 

84 



Harper's Ferry 

corps of " trumpeters" or " buglers," while the infan- 
try regiments had their drum corps, whose duty it 
was to sound the various " camp calls." The prin- 
cipal calls were " reveille," the getting up or morn- 
ing roll-call, at sunrise usually; the guard mount, the 
drill, the meal calls, the "retreat" (evening roll-call), 
and the " taps," the " turning in" or " lights out" call. 
The reveille, the retreat, and taps were required to be 
sounded by each battery, troop, and regiment in consecu- 
tive order, commencing at the extreme right. The firing 
of the morning gun was the signal for the first corps of 
cavalry buglers to begin the reveille, then in succession it 
was repeated first through the bugler corps and then by 
the drum corps back and forth through the lines until it 
had gone through the whole army. As a martial and 
musical feature it was exceedingly beautiful and inspiring. 
But as its purpose was to hustle out sleepy men to roll- 
call, it is doubtful if these features were fully appreciated ; 
that its advent was an occasion for imprecation rather 
than appreciation the following story may illustrate. 

A group of " vets" were discussing what they would do 
when they got home from the war. Several plans had 
been suggested — the taking into permanent camp of the 
soldier's sweetheart being the chief goal, of course. When 
Pat's turn came to tell what he was going to do, he said : 

" I'll be takin' me girl and settling down wid her 
housekeepin', and thin i'll be hirin' of a dhrum corps to 
come an' play the ravalye iviry mornin' under me chamber 
windi." 

" What will you do that for ? Haven't you had enough 
of the reveille here?" 

8s 



War from the Inside 

" I'll just h'ist me windi, an' I'll yell, ' To h — 1 wid yer 
ravalye; I'll slape as long as I plase.' " 

Many of these " calls" were parodied by the men. Here 
is the reveille: 

I can't get 'em up, I can't get 'em up, 

I can't get 'em up at all, sir ; 

I can't get 'em up, I can't get 'em up, 

I can't get 'em up at all. 

I'll go and tell the captain, 

I'll go and tell the captain, 

I'll go and tell the captain, 

I can't get 'em up at all. 

This is the sick call : 

Get your quinine, get your quinine. 
And a blue pill too, and a blue pill too. 
Get your quinine. 

And so on down the list. The retreat call at sundown 
was really enjoyed and was made more of. The day's 
work was then over, and each corps elaborated its music, 
the bands frequently extending it into an evening con- 
cert. 

The almost universal time-killer was cards. Of course 
various games were played, but " poker" was king. A 
game of the latter could be found in almost every com- 
pany street, officers as well as men took a " twist at the 
tiger." At the battle of Chancellorsville I saw a game in 
full blast right under fire of the rebel shells. Every 
screeching shell was greeted with an imprecation, while 
the game went on just the same. 

After our return home I was told of one man who made 

86 



Harper's Ferry- 
enough money at cards to successfully start himself in 
business. It was said he performed picket duty by hired 
proxies during the following winter in camp at Falmouth, 
and gave his time wholly to the game. A New York City 
regiment lay adjoining our camp that winter, and a truer 
lot of sports, from colonel down, never entered the ser- 
vice. These men, officers and all, were his patrons. They 
came to " do the Pennsylvania novice," but were them- 
selves done in the end. 

On the 3d of October our brigade made what was 
termed a reconnoissance in force out through Loudon 
County, Virginia, to Leesburg. It was reported that 
Jeb. Stuart was there with a force of cavalry and infan- 
try. General Kimball was sent with our brigade to cap- 
ture him if possible. Our orders on the evening of 
October 2 were to report at brigade head-quarters at 
seven o'clock a.m., with three days' rations and sixty 
rounds of ammunition. This meant " business," and was 
a welcome change from the monotony of camp life. A 
regiment of cavalry and two batteries of artillery had 
been added to our brigade for this expedition. The 
morning dawned bright and beautiful, but the day proved 
a very hot one, and the first three or four miles of our 
march was around the base of Loudon Heights, close 
under the mountain over a very rocky road, and where 
there was not a breath of air stirring. We were delayed 
by the artillery in getting over this portion of the route, 
and then we were marched almost on the run to make up 
for the lost time. General Kimball had gone forward with 
the cavalry, leaving his adjutant-general to bring up the 
balance of the column as rapidly as possible. In his 

87 



War from the Inside 

efforts to hurry the men forward the latter overdid the 
matter. The result was the men dropped in scores ut- 
terly exhausted, so that within three hours our number 
had been reduced more than half, and at the end of the 
march in the evening there were just twenty-five officers 
and men of our regiment present for duty, and of the 
whole infantry force, three thousand strong at the start, 
there were less than two hundred present at the finish. 
This was due to an utter lack of judgment in marching. 

The distance covered had been twenty-three miles. The 
day had been hot, the road rough, and the men, in heavy 
marching order with three days' rations and sixty rounds 
of ammunition, had carried upwards of ninety pounds 
each. With such a load and under such conditions, to 
expect men to march any distance at the hurried pace 
required was criminal folly. It bore its natural fruit. 
Our men were scattered on the route from Harper's Ferry 
to Leesburg, a demoralized lot of stragglers. My diary 
mentions this experience with much indignation and at- 
tributes the folly to the effects of whiskey. Of course, 
this was only a surmise. 

General Kimbell was not directly responsible for it. In 
his anxiety to capture Jeb. Stuart he had pushed ahead 
with the cavalry, and knew nothing of our condition until 
the forlorn party came straggling into his bivouac in the 
evening. He was very indignant, and said some words 
that cannot be recorded here. He was chagrined to find 
Stuart gone, but now was greatly relieved that such was 
the fact. Otherwise, said he, we would have stood an 
excellent chance for a journey south under rebel escort. 

On our way out we passed through several small vil- 



Harper's Ferry 

lag-es, in none of which did we find evidence of decided 
Union sentiment, except in Waterford. This was a pros- 
perous-looking town, and the people seemed hospitable, 
and manifested their Union sentiments by furnishing us 
fruit and water freely. Our cavalry caught four of Stuart's 
men in a picture-gallery and marched them to the rear. I 
had the good fortune to secure a loaf of nice bread and 
a canteen of sweet milk. If any one wishes to know how 
good bread and milk is, let him step into my shoes on that 
weary night. 

Conditions compelled us to remain at Leesburg that 
night. We rested on our arms, fearing Stuart might get 
an inkling of our plight and pounce upon us. My diary 
says I was unable to sleep because of suffering from a 
sprained knee and ankle, caused by my horse stumbling 
and falling on me just at dusk. 

The next morning we were off bright and early on the 
back track for camp, but by another route, so as to avoid 
being cut off by Stuart. We had started out bravely to 
capture this wily rebel. Now we were in mortal danger 
of being captured by him. A detail was made to go back 
over the route we came and gather up the stragglers. 
On our way back I was refused a canteen of water by 
the " Missus" of one of the plantation dwellings; but on 
riding around to the rear, where the slaves lived, old 
" Aunt Lucy" supplied us freely with both milk and 
water. This was a sample of the difference between the 
aristocrat in the mansion and the slave in the hovel. The 
latter were always very friendly and ready to help us 
in every possible way, while as a rule we met with rebuff 
at the hands of the former. 

89 



War from the Inside 

Here we came in contact for the first time with planta- 
tion life under the institution of slavery. The main or 
plantation house was usually situated a quarter-mile or 
more back from the " pike." They were generally low, 
flat, one-story mansions, built of stone, while further to 
the rear, in the form of a square, were the wooden cabins 
of the slaves, each plantation a village by itself. We 
marched only about eight miles this day, and bivouacked 
near the village of Hillsboro. This evening we officers 
of the field and staff caught on to a great treat in the 
way of stewed chicken and corn cake for supper at a 
Union farmhouse, and thought ourselves very fortunate 
to be able to engage a breakfast at the same place for next 
morning. Alas for the uncertainties of war! We had 
barely rolled ourselves in our blankets for the night when 
a staff officer from General Kimball's head-quarters came 
and in a low tone of voice ordered us to arouse our men 
without the least noise and be off as quietly as possible; 
that scouts had reported that Stuart was after us in hot 
haste. We were off almost in a jiffy. The night was cool 
and foggy. The former favored our rapid march, and 
the latter hid us from the enemy, who succeeded in cap- 
turing only a couple of men who fell out. 

We reached camp at Harper's Ferry shortly after sun- 
rise, a thoroughly tired and battered crowd. The expedi- 
tion proved absolutely fruitless, and had barely escaped 
being captured, owing to mismanagement. It was the 
most trying bit of service of our whole experience. Some 
of our men never recovered from the exhaustion of that 
first day's march, and had to be discharged as permanently 
disabled. 

90 



Harper's Ferry 

Shortly after this another expedition relieved the mo- 
notony of camp life. General Hancock, commanding the 
Second Division of our corps, had been sent to make a 
reconnoissance in force towards Halltown, six to eight 
miles up the Shenandoah Valley. He had gone in the 
morning, and shortly after noon we had heard cannon- 
ading in that direction, showing that he had found " busi- 
ness." It was Hancock's reputation to make " business," 
if the " Johnnies" could be induced to tarry long enough 
for him to reach them. However, the firing shortly 
ceased, and the night set in with a terrific rain-storm. 
I remember, as I rolled myself in my blanket pre- 
pared for a good sleep in defiance of the rain, sym- 
pathizing with those poor fellows out on that recon- 
noissance in all this storm. My sympathy was premature. 
Just then I heard an ominous scratch on my tent, and 
the hand of an orderly was thrust through the flaps 
with an order. In much trepidation I struck a light. 
Sure I was of trouble, or an order would not have been 
sent out at such a time. My fears were realized. It 
directed our regiment to report at brigade head-quarters 
in heavy marching order with all possible despatch. Here 
was a " state of things." Was it ever so dark, and did 
it ever rain harder? Not in my recollection. But that 
order left no time for cogitations. Into boots, clothing, 
and gum blanket, out to the colonel's tent with the order, 
then with his orders to all the companies, the sounding of 
the long roll, the forming line, and away to brigade head- 
quarters in that inky blackness and drenching rain was 
the work of less than fifteen minutes. General Kimball 
complimented us as being the first regiment to report, and 

91 



War from the Inside 

we were honored with the head of the column which was 
to support Hancock at Halltown. French's division had 
been ordered out as supports, and Kimball's brigade had 
the advance. 

We marched rapidly up the valley of the Shenandoah, 
now as black as Erebus. But soon the rain ceased, the 
clouds broke away, and the stars appeared, completely 
transforming the scene, and except for the mud and our 
wet and uncomfortable condition it would have been an 
enjoyable march. After going about six miles we were 
directed into a woods to rest until morning. Inside the 
woods it was inky dark again, and we made headway 
with much difficulty. Men and horses stumbled and 
floundered over fallen logs and through brush at immi- 
nent peril of limbs, until a halt was made, and after details 
for picket had been sent out we were allowed to rest until 
daylight. 

It was now about three o'clock. But to rest, soaking 
wet, almost covered with mud, in a woods that had been 
so drenched with rain that everything was like a soaked 
sponge, that was the problem. No fires were allowed, for 
no one knew how near the enemy might be. However, 
the men were tired enough to sleep, most of them, even 
under those conditions. I well remember the weary walk- 
ing and stamping to keep warm until the sunshine came 
to our relief. But daylight revealed a condition of things 
relative to our position that, had the enemy known, we 
might again have been made an easy prey. Our details 
for water, after going out some distance, as they sup- 
posed in our rear, suddenly found themselves uncom- 
fortably near the enemy's outposts, and hurried back to 

92 



Harper's Ferry 

camp with the information. It was found that in the 
darkness our picket line had actually gotten turned 
around, so that our rear had been carefully guarded, 
whilst our front was left wholly exposed. The denseness 
of the woods and the darkness of the night had been our 
salvation. We shortly learned that Hancock had accom- 
plished his purpose and was moving back to Harper's 
Ferry. We followed leisurely, reaching the camp about 
noon, thoroughly tired and bedraggled from the rain and 
mud. 



93 



CHAPTER VIII 



FROM HARPER S FERRY TO FREDERICKSBURG 

We remained on Bolivar Heights, at Harper's Ferry, 
without further special incident until the 31st of October, 
1862. In the mean time Lieutenant-Colonel Wilcox had 
been promoted to colonel to fill the vacancy caused by the 
death of Colonel Oakford at Antietam. Major Albright 
had been promoted to lieutenant-colonel and the senior 
captain, Shreve, Company A, had been made major. 
Colonel Wilcox was on his back with a severe case of 
typhoid fever, and Lieutenant-Colonel Albright had been 
some ten days absent on sick leave, during which time 
Major Shreve had been in command. Lieutenant-Colo- 
nel Albright, hearing of the probable movement of the 
army, rejoined us in time to take command as we bade 
farewell to Harper's Ferry. To show how little a soldier 
can know of what is before him, I note the fact that we 
had just completed fixing up our quarters for cold weather 
at Camp Bolivar. This involved considerable labor and 
some expense. My diary records the fact that I had 
put up a " California stove" in my tent. This, if I re- 
member rightly, was a cone-shaped sheet-iron affair, 
which had a small sliding door and sat on the ground, 
with a small pipe extending through the canvas roof 
just under the ridge-pole to the rear. It cost, I think, 

94 



From Harper's Ferry to Fredericksburg 

about four dollars, and required some skill in " setting 
up," chiefly in fixing the pipe so that it would not tumble 
about one's ears with every blast of wind that shook the 
tent, and in windy weather would at least carry some of 
the smoke outside. A special course of engineering was 
almost needed to be able to properly handle those stoves. 
A little too much fire, and you had to adopt Pat's remedy 
when Biddy's temper got up — sit on the outside until it 
cooled down. Too little was worse than none, for your 
tent became a smoke-house. On the whole, they were 
much like the goose the aforesaid Pat captured and 
brought into camp, " a mighty unconvanient burr'd, a 
little too big for one and not big enough for two." 

This fixing up of quarters had been done in contempla- 
tion of remaining here through the winter, and we had 
taken our cue from like actions of our brigade officers, 
who were supposed to know something about the move- 
ments of the army. When we got orders on the 29th of 
October to prepare for the march, I was assured by the 
adjutant-general of our brigade that it was nothing more 
than a day's reconnoissance, and that we were certainly 
not going to move our quarters. He knew as much about 
it as I did. Within an hour after this order another came 
directing us to move in heavy marching order, with three 
days' rations and sixty rounds of ammunition. And so 
we moved out of Harper's Ferry on the 31st of October, 
leaving our fixed-up quarters, with my four-dollar stove, 
to Geary's division, which succeeded to our camp. 

We crossed the Shenandoah on a pontoon bridge and 
skirted the mountain under Loudon Heights over the same 
route south that we had taken on our way in from the 

95 



War from the Inside 

Leesburg raid. We marched very leisurely, making dur- 
ing the first four days only about twenty-five miles, to a 
village bearing the serious (?) name of Snickersville. 
Here we had the first evidence of the presence of the 
enemy. We were hurried through this village and up 
through the gap in the mountain called " Snicker's Gap" 
to head off the rebels. We soon came on to their scouts 
and pickets, who fled precipitately without firing a gun. 
Part of our division halted on the top of the gap, while a 
couple of regiments skirmished through the woods both 
sides of the road down to the foot of the mountain on the 
other side. The enemy had taken " French leave," and 
so our men returned and our division bivouacked here for 
the night. 

We now learned that these giant armies were moving 
south in parallel columns, the mountain separating them. 
At every gap or pass in the mountain a bristling head 
or a clinched fist, so to speak, of one would be thrust 
through and the other would try to hit it. This was 
our mission, as we double-quicked it through this gap. 
When we got there the " fist" had been withdrawn, 
and our work for the time was over. But our bivouac 
here — how beautiful it was ! The fields were clean and 
green, with plenty of shade, for right in the gap were 
some good farms. Then the cavalry had not cleaned 
the country of everything eatable, as was usual, they being 
always in the advance. There was milk and bread to be 
had, and somehow — I never dared to inquire too closely 
about it — some good mutton came into camp that night, 
so that we had a splendid breakfast next morning. Some 
fine honey was added to the bill of fare. The man who 

96 



From Harper's Ferry to Fredericksburg 

brought in the latter claimed that a rebel hive of bees 
attacked him whilst on picket duty, and he confiscated 
the honey as a measure of retaliation. 

But the special feature that makes that camp linger in 
my memory was the extraordinary beauty of the scene 
in the valley below us when the eveninj^ camp-fires were 
lighted. We were on a sort of table-land two or three 
hundred feet above the broad valley, which widened out 
at this point and made a most charming landscape. As 
the darkness drew on the camp-fires were lighted, and the 
scene became one of weird, bewitching beauty. Almost 
as far as the eye could reach, covering three and possibly 
four square miles, were spread out the blazing camp-fires 
of that mighty host of our " Boys in Blue." No drums 
were beaten and the usual retreat call was not sounded, 
but the thousands of camp-fires told of the presence of 
our men. A martial city was cooking its evening coffee 
and resting its weary limbs in the genial camp-fire glow, 
whilst weary hearts were refreshed with the accompany- 
ing chat about friends and dearer ones at home. The 
scouting " Johnny Rebs" (and there were no doubt plenty 
of them viewing the scene) could have gotten from it no 
comforting information to impart as to our numbers. 
Most of the Army of the Potomac, now largely aug- 
mented by new regiments, was there, probably not less 
than one hundred thousand men. It was a picture not of 
a lifetime, but of the centuries. It made my blood leap 
as I realized that I was looking down upon the grandest 
army, all things considered, of any age or time. Its mis- 
sion was to save to liberty and freedom the life of the 
best government the world ever Saw. In its ranks was 
7 97 



War from the Inside 

the best blood of a free people. In intelligence it was far 
superior to any other army that ever existed. Scholars 
of all professions, tradesmen and farmers, were there, 
fighting side by side, animated by the same patriotic im- 
pulse. I said to myself, it is impossible that that army 
should be beaten. It is the strong right arm of the Union, 
and under God it shall assuredly deal the death-blow to 
the rebellion. This it certainly did, though at a fearful 
cost, for it was fighting the same blood. The inspiration 
of that scene made me glad from the bottom of my heart 
that I had the privilege of being just one in that glorious 
army. After forty years, what would I take for that 
association with all its dangers and hardships ? What for 
these pictures and memories? They are simply priceless. 
I only wish I could so paint the pictures and reproduce 
the scenes that they might be an inspiration to the same 
patriotism that moved this mighty host. 

One of our grizzly-headed " boys," after forty years, 
tells the following story of his experiences on a foraging 
expedition from the camp. Three of them started out 
after beef. Some young steers had been seen in the dis- 
tance. They reached the field, a mile or more from 
camp. They found the game a mighty vigorous lot of 
young steers, and their troubles began when they tried to 
corral any one of them. Both ends seemed to be in busi- 
ness at the same time, whilst a tail-hold proved to have 
more transportation possibilities than they had ever 
dreamed of. Coaxing and persuasion proved utter fail- 
ures, for the bo vines seemed to have the same prejudices 
against our blue uniforms their owners had, and it would 
not do to fire a gun. However, after two hours of the 



From Harper's Ferry to Fredericksburg 

hardest exercise they ever had, they succeeded in " pinch- 
ing" their steer with nose, horn, and tail-holds. Neither 
of them had ever undertaken to butcher a beef before, and 
a good-sized jackknife was all they had to work with. 
But beef they came for and must have, and one was 
selected to do the trick. Here again they counted without 
their quarry. The latter evidently objected to being prac- 
tised on by novices, for as the knife entered his neck he 
gave a jump which somehow nearly severed the would-be 
butcher's thumb. Nevertheless, he completed his work 
without a word, and the animal was skinned and divided. 
Just as they had him down a field officer rode almost on 
to them. They felt sure that their " fat was in the fire," 
for the officer — probably the field officer of the day — 
certainly saw them and saw what they were doing. But 
he turned and rode away without saying a word. It was 
evidently one of those things he did not want to see. Well, 
the fun was not yet over. They backed their beef to camp, 
and this was about as uncomfortable a job as they ever 
had. No more tired trio ever rolled themselves in 
blankets than they were that night. But there was com- 
pensation. They had an abundant supply of " fresh" on 
hand and their sleep was sweet. Alas for the uncer- 
tainties of camp life. Notwithstanding they took the 
extra precaution to roll their several portions in their 
coats and placed them under their heads for pillows, some 
" sons of Belial" from an adjacent regiment who had dis- 
covered them bringing their " game" into camp actually 
stole every ounce of the beef out from under their too 
soundly sleeping heads during the night and made off 
with it. After all their labor and trouble neither of them 

99 



War from the Inside 

had a taste of that beef. Their nostrils were regaled 
with the savory fumes of the cooking meat. They had 
no difficulty in discovering where it was. Indeed, the 
whelps who stole it rather paraded their steal, knowing 
that the mouths of our men were sealed. They simply 
could not say a word, for marauding was punishable with 
death. The worst of the escapade was that the poor 
fellow whose thumb had been so nearly severed was made 
a cripple for life. He was never able to do another day's 
duty, and to shield him the other two — ^be it said to their 
everlasting honor — performed his picket duty in addition 
to their own until he was discharged. 

My diary notes the fact that Fitz-John Porter's corps 
passed us just before night, and I saw its commander for 
the first time. He was a small, slender, young-looking 
man, with full black whiskers and keen black eyes. He 
was dressed very modestly and wore the usual high black 
slouch hat, with a much battered gold-tassel band. A pair 
of silver stars on his shoulder, much obscured by wear 
and dust, indicated his rank of major-general. 

The next day, November 3, was cold and chilly and we 
were early on the march, still southward. We had now 
exhausted our supply of rations, and at a temporary halt 
wagon-loads of hardtack and pork were driven along our 
company lines and boxes of the bread and barrels of pork 
dumped out, and the men told to fill their haversacks. 
Barrel heads and boxes were soon smashed with the butts 
of guns and contents appropriated, each man taking 
all he would. Many a fine piece of the pork marched 
away on a bayonet, ready for the noon-day meal. I 
filled my own saddle-bags, as did the rest of us officers, 

100 



From Harper's Ferry to Fredericksburg 

preferring to take no further chances on the grub 
question. 

We bivouacked about four o'clock, after a thirteen-mile 
march in a raw and very chilly air. Just going into biv- 
ouac I saw Major-General John F, Reynolds, who met 
such a tragic death at Gettysburg the next July. His 
corps — the First — was in the advance of ours. Our regi- 
ment was marching at the head of our brigade column. 
Lieutenant-Colonel Albright was temporarily absent and 
I was directing the column. General Reynolds's corps 
had passed into the field to the left and were already in 
bivouac; the other troops of our division were not 
visible at this point, and I was hesitating what direction 
to give the column. General Reynolds was sitting on his 
horse looking at us, evidently with much interest, and 
noticing my dilemma, rode up to my assistance at once. 
Addressing me as adjutant, he said : " Part of your corps 
has moved in yonder," pointing out the place. " If I 
were you I would go in here and occupy this field to the 
right in column of divisions, and you may say General 
Reynolds advised this, if you please." His manner and 
way of doing this little service were so pleasant that he 
captured me at once. Had he chosen to do so, he could 
have given me orders, as the senior officer present, but 
with a gentle courtesy he accomplished his purpose with- 
out that, and to reassure me gave his name and rank in 
this delicate way. I shall never forget his pleasant smile 
as he returned my salute after thanking him for his sug- 
gestion. He was a superb-looking man, dark complex- 
ioned, wearing full black whiskers, and sat his fine horse 
like a Centaur, tall, straight, and graceful, the ideal sol- 

lOI 



War from the Inside 

dier. I do not remember to have ever seen this remark- 
able officer again. He was one of the few great com- 
manders developed by the war. A quiet, modest man, 
he yet possessed a very decisive element of character, as 
illustrated by the following incident related to me by my 
friend Colonel W. L. Wilson, assistant adjutant-general 
of one of the divisions of Reynolds's corps, and shows his 
unwearied vigilance and his indefatigable capacity for 
work. The corps was in the presence of the enemy, an 
attack was deemed highly probable. Night had brought 
on a storm of rain and intense darkness. General Reyn- 
olds had given the proper officers very explicit instruc- 
tions about locating his picket lines, and Colonel Wilson, 
knowing the critical nature of the work and his division 
chief's anxiety over it, about midnight went out over 
their part of the line to make doubly sure that everything 
was right. Among the first persons he encountered after 
reaching the outposts was General Reynolds, all alone, 
making his way over the line in that drenching rain, 
to be assured that the pickets were properly posted and 
doing their duty. Here is Colonel Wilson's account of 
the colloquy that ensued: "Who are you, sir? Where 
do you belong? What are you doing here?" he vol- 
leyed at me savagely. Being apparently reassured by 
my reply, he continued in a less peremptory tone, " Who 
ordered that line? How far out is it?" Receiving 
my reply, he exclaimed, " Push it out, push it out 
farther !" " How far. General ?" I ventured to ask. 
"Push it out until you feel something!" This was 
Reynolds. 

We continued our march down what I was told was 

102 



From Harper's Ferry to Fredericksburg 

the valley of the Catochin, November 5 found us near 
Upperville, where we bivouacked alongside an old grave- 
yard, our head-quarters being established inside the en- 
closure, to get the protection of its stone wall from the 
cold wind that was blowing. The temperature had fallen 
during the past twenty-four hours, so that it was now 
decidedly chilly — good for marching, but cold in bivouac. 
My notes say that I was chilled through until my teeth 
chattered; that I slept in the hollow made by a sunken 
grave to get warm; that my dreams were not disturbed 
by any unsubstantial hobgoblins of the defunct member 
of an F. F. V. whose remains might have been resting 
below me. The letters F. F. V. meant much in those war 
days. They stood for " First Family of Virginia," an 
expression much in use by her slave-proud aristocracy, 
and, of course, much satirized by us of the North. On 
this day we passed several very handsome mansions with 
their slave contingents. One old " daddy" volunteered 
the information that his " Mars was a pow'ful secesh ;" 
that he had three sons in the rebel army. My diary notes 
with indignation that these rich plantations were carefully 
guarded by our cavalry to prevent our soldiers entering 
to get water as they passed. They would doubtless have 
helped themselves to other things as well, especially things 
eatable, but the owners were rebels and deserved to have 
their property taken, we all felt. 

The orders against marauding were punctuated by a 
striking example this day. The cavalry orderly of the 
general commanding our division, riding back to head- 
quarters after delivering a batch of orders, among them 
another on this hated subject, carried a pair of handsome 

103 



War from the Inside 

turkeys strapped to his saddle. It is safe to say that entire 
flock came into our camp that night, and turkey was 
served at breakfast to some of the rank and file as well as 
to the general. Verily, " consistency thou art a jewel." 

From Upperville we moved by easy marching down to 
Warrenton. The weather had grown much colder. On 
the 8th of November there was a fall of rain, succeeded 
by snow, and we marched in a very disagreeable slush. 
The bivouac in this snow was most trying. The result 
for myself was a severe attack of fever and ague. I had 
been much reduced in flesh from the fatigue and nervous 
strain of the strenuous life of the past two months. This 
attack prostrated me at once. I was placed in an ambu- 
lance, being unable to ride my horse. The shaking and 
jolting of that ambulance ride were something fearful. I 
can now sympathize with the wounded who were com- 
pelled to ride in those horrible vehicles. They were cov- 
ered wagons, with seats on each side, and made with 
heavy, stiff springs, so as to stand the rough roads, which 
were frequently cut through the fields. This night Gen- 
eral Kimball had me brought to his head-quarters, a brick 
farm-house, for shelter. It was a kindness I greatly 
appreciated. The next night our chaplain succeeded in 
getting me into a farm-house some little distance from 
the regiment. He secured this accommodation on the 
strength of Freemasonry. The owner's name I have 
preserved in my diary as Mr. D. L. F. Lake. He was one 
of Mosby's " cavalry," as they called themselves. We in 
our army called them " guerillas." They were the terror 
of our army stragglers. They were " good Union men" 
when our army was passing, but just as soon as the army 

104 



From Harper's Ferry to Fredericksburg 

had passed they were in their saddles, picking up every 
straggler and any who may have had to fall behind from 
sickness. In that way they got quite a few prisoners. 
This man did not hesitate to tell us the mode of their 
operations. He said his farm had been literally stripped 
of hay, grain, and cattle by our cavalry under General 
Stoneman. All he had left was one chicken. This his 
wife cooked for the chaplain and me. He brought out 
Richmond papers during the evening and freely discussed 
the issues of the war with the chaplain. I was too ill to 
pay much attention to what was said, only to gather that 
his idea of us Northern people was that we were a mis- 
erable horde of invading barbarians, destined to be very 
speedily beaten and driven out. He admitted, however, 
that in financial transactions he preferred " greenbacks" 
to the Confederate scrip, which I thought rather negatived 
his boasted faith in the success of the Confederacy. His 
wife, who had, not many years gone, been young and 
pretty, occasionally chimed in with expressions of great 
hate and bitterness. Perhaps the latter was not to be 
wondered at from their stand-point, and they had just 
now ample grounds for their bitter feelings in the fact 
that they had just been relieved of all their portable prop- 
erty by the Union forces. He had receipts for what 
Stoneman had taken, which would be good for their mar- 
ket value on his taking the oath of allegiance. But he 
said he would die rather than take that oath, so he con- 
sidered his property gone. He no doubt thought better 
of this later on, and probably got pay for his stuff. His 
kindness to me on the score of our fraternal relations was 
generous to the full extent of his ability, and showed him 

105 



War from the Inside 

to be a true man, notwithstanding his " secesh" proclivi- 
ties. It was a great favor, for had I been compelled to 
remain out in that rough weather sick as I was, the conse- 
quences must have been most serious. On leaving I tried 
to pay him in gold coin for his hospitality, but he firmly 
declined my money, saying : " You know you could not 
have gotten into my house for money. Pay in like man- 
ner as you have received when opportunity affords." For 
this fraternal hospitality I shall always remember my 
" secesh" Masonic brother with gratitude, for I feel that 
it saved my life. 

Another terrific day in that awful ambulance brought 
me to Warrenton, where I got a room at a so-called hotel. 
Here, upon the advice of our surgeon, I made application 
for leave of absence on account of sickness. The red tape 
that had to be " unwound" in getting this approved and 
returned almost proved my ruin. Captain Archbald was 
taken sick at this time, and his application for a like leave 
accompanied mine. The corps surgeon. Dr. Dougherty, 
called with our surgeon to examine us at the hotel, and 
said he would approve both applications; that it would 
be but a day or so before our leaves would be ready and 
returned to us. The next day orders for the army to 
move were issued, and we saw our men marching away. 
It made my heart ache not to be in my place with them. 
I was, however, barely able to sit up, so that was out 
of the question. Now another possibility confronted us, 
namely, being picked up and carried off as prisoners by 
my late host's comrades, Mosby's guerillas. The army 
was evidently evacuating Warrenton and vicinity, and 
unless our leaves of absence reached us within a very few 

io6 



From Harper's Ferry to Fredericksburg 

hours we would be outside of the " Union lines" and 
transportation to Washington unobtainable, for the rail- 
road trains did not pretend to run beyond the Union lines. 
The next day came, the last of our troops were moving 
out, and our leaves had not come. Captain Archbald and 
I resolved that we must cut that " red tape" rather than 
take the chances of going to Richmond. This we did by 
securing suits of citizens' clothes and making our way as 
citizens through the lines to Washington. From there 
we had no difficulty in reaching home in uniform. At 
Washington I wrote Colonel Albright of our dilemma 
and the way we had solved it, and asked that our leaves 
of absence be for\varded to us at Scranton. They came 
some two weeks later. Had we remained at Warrenton, 
they would never have reached us, unless in a rebel prison. 
Yet I suppose we had committed an offence for which we 
could have been court-martialled. 

I should have mentioned that just at the time I was 
taken sick, on the 9th of November, whilst the army was 
approaching Warrenton, the order relieving General Mc- 
Clellan from the command of the Army of the Potomac 
was issued. He was ordered to report to his home in 
Trenton, N. ]., on waiting orders. Great was the con- 
sternation among the veterans of that army on his retire- 
ment, for they really had a strong attachment for " Little 
Mac," as they fondly called him. He took his leave in 
an affectionate order, recounting the heroic deeds of this 
noble army. This was followed by a grand review, ac- 
companied by battery salutes, and the military career of 
General George B. McClellan passed into history. 



107 



CHAPTER IX 



THE FREDERICKSBURG CAMPAIGN 

I MUST pause long enough to speak of the days of 
that sick leave. Just before reaching Scranton I met 
on the train my old friend and employer, Joseph C. Piatt, 
of the Lackawanna Iron & Coal Company, who insisted 
on taking me home with him. As I had no home of my 
own and no relations here, I accepted his kind hospital- 
ity. Had I been their own son I could not have been cared 
for more tenderly. Under the circumstances I am sure 
I was not a very prepossessing object to entertain. I well 
remember the warm bath and the glorious luxury of once 
more being actually clean, dressed in a civilized night- 
robe, and in a comfortable bed. It must be remembered 
that a soldier must habitually sleep in his clothes. I had 
not had my clothes off, except for a wash, since I entered 
the army. I had evidently been living beyond my 
strength, and now the latter gave way and I found myself 
unable to leave my bed for the next two weeks. Dr. 
William Frothingham gave me most excellent medical 
treatment, and with the motherly nursing of Mrs. Piatt 
I was soon on the mend. 

On the 8th of December I started back for my regi- 
ment. I was by no means well, and the doctor was loath 
to let me go, as were all my kind friends; but a grand 
forward movement of the army was reported as in prog- 

io8 



The Fredericksburg Campaign 

ress, and I felt that I must be at my post. I reached 
Washington on the 9th, and it took the next two days to 
secure a pass and transportation to the front. The latter 
was somewhat difficult to obtain, owing to the fact that 
a movement of the army was in progress. What the char- 
acter of the movement was no one seemed to know, not 
even the provost-marshal, who issued all passes. 

I took a boat leaving at six o'clock a.m. on the 12th 
for Aquia Creek and thence went by rail in a cattle-car 
to its terminus in the open field opposite Fredericksburg. 
(The rebels were mean enough to refuse us depot privi- 
leges at the regular station in Fredericksburg. ) I arrived 
there about one o'clock p.m. A brisk cannonade was in 
progress between the Union batteries posted on the 
heights back of Falmouth and the Confederate g^ns on 
Marye's Heights, back of Fredericksburg. The problem 
now was to find my regiment. A stranger standing near 
said, in answer to my inquiry, that the Union army had 
been encamped about a mile and a half back yonder, 
pointing to the hills in our rear, but that he was quite 
sure they had all gone across the river last night; that 
a big fight had taken place about laying the pontoon 
bridge over the river (the Rappahannock), and the 
Union forces had beaten the rebels back, laid the bridge 
and had crossed over and occupied the city. Fredericks- 
burg was a city of probably five or six thousand people, 
lying on the west bank of the Rappahannock, which runs 
at this point nearly southeast. The river is probably one 
hundred and fifty to two hundred yards wide here, quite 
deep, with a rather swift current and high banks, so that 
one does not see the water until quite close to it. The 

109 



War from the Inside 

railroad formerly ran from Aquia Creek to Richmond 
via Fredericksburg, the connection to Washington being 
by boat from Aquia Creek. The war stopped its opera- 
tion, but so much of it as was in the Union lines had 
been seized by the government, and was being operated 
by the quartermaster's department for war purposes. 
The stations of the latter were wherever the troops were, 
and these were now operating against Fredericksburg, 
hence I was dumped down in an open field opposite 
that city as stated above. I was fortunate enough to 
find a man who was going to Hancock's old camp, 
and I concluded to go with him, believing that once 
there I could find our division camp belonging to the 
same corps. 

I chartered a burly " contraban" to carry my luggage, 
and we started. The ground was very soft from recent 
rains, and the mud was something terrible. If one has 
never encountered Virginia mud, he can have no adequate 
idea of the meaning of the word. It gets a grip on 3'^our 
feet and just won't let go. Every rise of your pedal 
extremities requires a mighty tug, as if you were lifting 
the earth, as indeed you are — a much larger share of it 
than is comfortable. 

A tramp of a mile and a half brought us to Hancock's 
old camp. In my weak condition I was thoroughly ex- 
hausted, and so my " contraban" claimed to be, for he 
positively refused to go another step. I got my quarter- 
master friend to take care of my baggage, whilst I con- 
tinued my search for our division camp. I was not suc- 
cessful in finding it that night, and was obliged to accept 
the invitation of a sick officer of the Eighty-first Penn- 

IIO 



The Fredericksburg Campaign 

sylvania Volunteers to share his quarters for the night. 
I had eaten breakfast at five o'clock that morning in 
Washington and had eaten nothing since, and it was now 
dusk. I was not only tired, but faint for want of food. 
This officer, whose name I regret I have forgotten, was 
a brother Mason, and kindly divided his meagre rations 
with me, which consisted of boiled rice and hardtack. 
He had a little molasses, with which the former was 
lubricated, and a good strong cup of coffee was added. 
It was not Waldorf-Astoria fare, to be sure, and the 
explanation was that the boys had taken almost every- 
thing eatable with them. 

The next morning I picked up an old " crow-bait" of 
a horse, the only four-footed transportation possibly ob- 
tainable, and started for Fredericksburg to find my regi- 
ment. The only directions I had about disposing of this 
frame of a horse was to " turn the bones loose when you 
get through with him." He could go only at a snail's 
pace, and when I reached Fredericksburg it must have 
been nine o'clock. I crossed the pontoon bridge, which 
had been laid the morning before under circumstances 
of the greatest gallantry by Howard's division of our 
corps. 

The '' ball" was now well opened. Marye's Heights 
(pronounced Marie, with the accent on the last letter, as 
if spelled Maree), circling the city from the river above 
to a point below the city, was literally crowded with bat- 
teries of rebel artillery. These guns were firing at our 
batteries on the heights on the other side of the river, 
and also upon our troops occupying the city. The air 
was filled with screeching, bursting shells, and a deafening 



War from the Inside 

pandemonium was in progress. It was not a very in- 
viting place to enter under these circumstances, but it 
was as safe for me as for my regiment, and my duty 
was to be with them. The trouble was to find it in that 
multitude of troops filling all the streets of the city. 
Our corps alone numbered probably twelve thousand men 
at that time, and the Ninth Corps was there besides. 
However, I soon found Kimball's brigade to my great 
delight, supposing our regiment was in it, as it was 
when I went away. General Kimball greeted me with 
great cordiality; but when. I asked where my regiment 
was, he said he was sorry he could not inform me; that 
they had that morning been transferred, much against 
his will, to General Max Weber's brigade, and where 
that was he did not know. It was probably somewhere 
in the city. Said he : 

" You cannot possibly find it now, and it is a waste 
of time to try. I can give you plenty of work to-day. 
Stay with me and serve as an aide on my staff." 

The officers of his staff, all of whom were personal 
friends, urgently joined in the general's invitation. But 
I felt that I must be with the regiment if it were possible 
to find it, and so declined what would have been a dis- 
tinguishing service. Some distance down the main street 
I ran on to the regiment just when I had abandoned all 
hope of finding it. My reception was exceedingly cor- 
dial, accompanied with the remark: "Just in time, adju- 
tant, just in time." I found Lieutenant-Colonel Albright 
in command and with no help from our field and staff. 
Colonel Wilcox was still on sick leave. Major Shreve 
had returned to camp during the heavy cannonading of 

112 



The Fredericksburg Campaign 

the day before, and Colonel Albright had lost his voice 
from a severe cold, so that I had to supply voice for 
him in the issuing of orders, in addition to my other 
duties. 

The situation was most portentous. We lay in the 
main street under the shelter of the houses, which were 
being bombarded by the rebel batteries in their efforts 
to reach our troops. The houses were all vacant; the 
people had fled on the approach of our army. Not a 
soul did we see of the inhabitants of the city during the 
two days we occupied it. They had evidently left in 
great haste, taking but few things with them. I was told 
that in some houses the boys found and ate meals that 
had been prepared and left in their flight, and in all 
there was more or less food, which was appropriated. 
Flour was plentiful, and the night after the battle there 
were army flapjacks galore. In some cases it might have 
been said these were fearfully and wonderfully made, 
but they went just the same. 

An incident connected with this occupation of Fred- 
ericksburg comes to light after forty years. If General 
Howard should see it the mystery of the sudden dis- 
appearance of his breakfast on that morning might be 
cleared up. Our regiment happened to be quartered 
in the morning near his head-quarters. Rations were 
scarce. General Howard's servant had prepared him a 
most tempting breakfast from supplies found and con- 
fiscated from one of the houses. The sight of this re- 
past and its savory fumes were too much for the empty 
stomachs of two of our men, who shall be nameless 
here. The trick was a neat one. One of them got the 
8 113 



War from the Inside 

attention of the cook and held it until the other reached 
into the tent and dumped the contents of the main dish, 
hot and steaming, into his haversack and quietly saun- 
tered away. When the cook discovered his loss the other 
fellow was gone. These rascals said it was the best dish 
of ham and eggs they ever ate. Many houses had fine 
pianos and other musical instruments, and in some in- 
stances impromptu dances were on whilst Confederate 
shells whanged through the house above their heads. It 
is safe to say that there was little left of valuable bric- 
a-brac to greet the fugitive people on their return. And 
it is highly probable that pianos and handsome furniture 
needed considerable repairing after the exodus of the 
" Yank." This was not due to pure vandalism, although 
war creates the latter, but to the feeling of hatred for 
the miserable rebels who had brought on the war and 
were the cause of our being there. And it must be ad- 
mitted there were some who pocketed all they could for 
the commercialism there might be in it, the argument 
again being, " somebody will take it, and I might as well 
have it as the other fellow." The first part of the argu- 
ment was doubtless as true as the latter part was false. 
Many trinkets were hawked about among the men after 
the fight as souvenirs. Among them was a silver-plated 
communion flagon. Some scamp had filched it from one 
of the churches and was trying to sell it. Fortunately, he 
did not belong to our regiment. Our chaplain took it 
from him and had it strapped to his saddle-bag. His 
purpose was to preserve it for its owner if the time 
should come that it could be returned. But in the mean- 
time its presence attached to his saddle made him the 

114 



The Fredericksburg Campaign 

butt of any amount of raillery from both officers and 
men. 

When I joined the regiment it was lying in front of the 
Court-House, from the steeple of which some sixty or 
seventy feet high, the flags of our signal-corps were most 
actively wagging. It occurred to me that those signal- 
men were mighty nervy fellows. They were a beautiful 
mark for the rebel batteries, which were evidently doing 
their best to knock them out. The steeple was a plain, 
old-fashioned affair, having an open belfry, which seemed 
to be supported by four upright posts or timbers. I saw 
one of those uprights knocked out by a rebel shell. A 
couple more equally good shots and our signal-fellows 
would come ignominiously — no, gloriously — down, for 
there could be no ignominy with such pluck. But the 
wig-wagging went on, I fancied, with a little more snap 
and audacity than before, and they maintained their sta- 
tion there in the very teeth of the rebel batteries until the 
army was withdrawn. So much for " Yankee nerve." 
I afterwards learned that the signal-officer there was none 
other than Lieutenant Frederick Fuller, of Scranton, one 
of my most intimate personal friends. Lieutenant Fuller 
told me that he was on duty at Burnside's head-quarters 
on that morning; that a station was ordered opened in 
the belfry of that Court-House, and another officer was 
despatched thither for that duty ; that after waiting some 
time for the flags to appear he was ordered over to see 
what the trouble was. He found the other officer sitting 
under shelter, afraid to mount the belfry, nor could 
any persuasion induce him to face that storm of shell. 
Lieutenant Fuller thereupon climbed up into the belfry, 

"5 



War from the Inside 

opened the station himself, and ran it during the whole 
battle. 

About ten o'clock the command " Forward" was 
sounded, and our brigade moved out towards Marye's 
Heights. Some idea of the topography of Fredericksburg 
and its rear I find is necessary to an understanding of 
what follows. Marye's Heights, which encircle the city 
back some five hundred yards, are the termination of a 
plateau which rises from one hundred and fifty to two 
hundred feet in an abrupt terrace from the plain upon 
which the city stands. These heights form a half-circle 
from the river above to a point below the city some little 
distance from the river, and are from a mile to a mile 
and a half long and are most admirably adapted for 
defensive purposes. The rebel batteries, numbering at 
least one hundred guns, were massed on these heights, 
and covered not only every street leading out from the 
city, but every square foot of ground of the plain below. 
A third of the way down the terrace was an earthwork 
filled with infantry, whilst at its foot ran the famous 
stone wall extending southward from the cemetery above 
the city, and was continued by an earthwork around the 
whole circle. Behind this stone wall was massed a double 
line of Confederate infantry. To enter either street lead- 
ing out to those heights was to face the concentrated fire 
of that mass of artillery and the deadly work of those 
three lines of infantry. Yet that was just what we had 
before us. 

Our division (French's) led the assault. Our regi- 
ment brought up the rear of our brigade column. As 
each regiment turned into the street leading out, it took 

xi6 



The Fredericksburg Campaign 

up the run to cover this exposed ground as quickly as 
possible. Lieutenant-Colonel Albright was leading our 
regiment and I was by his side. We passed rapidly up 
the street, already covered with the dead and wounded 
which had fallen from the regiments that had preceded 
us, until we reached the embankment of a railroad, which 
was nearly parallel with the enemy's works. A tempo- 
rary halt was made here preparatory to moving forward 
in line of battle. 

Turning to see that our men were in position, I was 
amazed to find that we had but one company with us. It 
was my duty as adjutant to go back and find and bring 
up the balance of the regiment. The distance was about 
four hundred yards. I can truthfully say that in that 
moment I gave my life up. I do not expect ever again to 
face death more certainly than I thought I did then. It did 
not seem possible that I could go through that fire again 
and return alive. The grass did not grow under my feet 
going back. My sprinting record was probably made then. 
It may be possible to see the humorous side at this distance, 
but it was verily a life and death matter then. One may 
ask how such dangers can be faced. The answer is, there 
are many things more to be feared than death. Cowardice 
and failure of duty with me were some of them. I can 
fully appreciate the story of the soldier's soliloquy as he 
saw a rabbit sprinting back from the line of fire : 

" Go it, cotton tail ; if I hadn't a reputation at stake, I'd 
go to." 

Reputation and duty were the holding forces. I said 
to myself, ** This is duty. I'll trust in God and do it. If 
I fall, I cannot die better." Without the help and stimulus 

117 



War from the Inside 

of that trust I could not have done it, for I doubt if any 
man was ever more keenly susceptible to danger than I, 
and the experience of Antietam had taught me the full 
force of this danger. The nervous strain was simply 
awful. It can be appreciated only by those who have 
experienced it. The atmosphere seemed surcharged with 
the most startling and frightful things. Deaths, wounds, 
and appalling destruction everywhere. As fast as I was 
running back over that street, my eyes caught an incident 
that I can see now, which excited my pity, though I had 
no time to offer help. A fine-looking fellow had been 
struck by a shot, which had severed one leg and left it 
hanging by one of the tendons, the bone protruding, and 
he was bleeding profusely. Some men were apparently 
trying to get him off the street. They had hold of his 
arms and the other leg, but were jumping and dodging 
at every shell that exploded, jerking and twisting this 
dangling leg to his horrible torture. I remember hearing 
him beseeching them to lay him down and let him die. 
They were probably a trio of cowards trying to get back 
from the front, and were using this wounded man to get 
away with, a not infrequent occurrence with that class of 
bummers. 

I found the balance of the regiment had passed our 
street and were in confusion further down the main street. 
As the second company was about turning to follow the 
column a shell had exploded in their faces, killing and 
wounding some ten men and throwing it into disorder. 
Before it could be rallied the advancing column was out 
of sight. It was the work of but a few moments to 
straighten out the tangle and head them again for the 

n8 



The Fredericksburg Campaign 

front. No body of men could have more quickly and 
bravely responded, though they told me afterwards that 
they read in my pallid face the character of the work 
before them. Back we went up that street on the run, 
having to pick our way to avoid stepping on the dead and 
wounded, for the ground was now blue with our fallen 
heroes. 



119 



CHAPTER X 



THE BATTLE OF FREDERICKSBURG CONCLUDED 

Reaching the place in the rear of that railroad em- 
bankment, where I had left the brigade, I found it had 
just gone forward in line of battle, and a staff officer 
directed me to bring the rest of the regiment forward 
under fire, which I did, fortunately getting them into 
their proper position. The line was lying prone upon 
the ground in that open field and trying to maintain a 
fire against the rebel infantry not more than one hundred 
and fifty yards in our front behind that stone wall. We 
were now exposed to the fire of their three lines of in- 
fantry, having no shelter whatever. It was like stand- 
ing upon a raised platform to be shot down by those 
sheltered behind it. Had we been ordered to fix bayonets 
and charge those heights we could have understood the 
movement, though that would have been an impossible 
undertaking, defended as they were. But to be sent 
close up to those lines to maintain a firing-line without 
any intrenchments or other shelter, if that was its purpose, 
was simply to invite wholesale slaughter without the 
least compensation. It was to attempt the impossible, 
and invite certain destruction in the effort. On this inter- 
esting subject I have very decided convictions, which I 
will give later on. 

Proceeding now with my narrative, we were evi- 

120 





FIRST LIEUT. JAMtS A. ROGERS 
CO. C 



FIRST LIEUT. NOAH H. JAY 
CO. K 





FIRST LIEUT. A. C. MENSCH 
CO. E 



FIRST LIEUT. CH.ARLES E. GLADDING 
CO. D 





FIRST LIEUI. IS.'VIAH W. WILLITTS SECOND LIEUT. D. R. MELIICK 

CO. H CO. E 



The Battle of Fredericksburg 

dently in a fearful slaughter-pen. Our men were being 
swept away as by a terrific whirlwind. The ground was 
soft and spongy from recent rains, and our faces and 
clothes were bespattered with mud from bullets and frag- 
ments of shells striking the ground about us, whilst men 
were every moment being hit by the storm of projectiles 
that filled the air. In the midst of that frightful carnage 
a man rushing by grasped my hand and spoke. I turned 
and looked into the face of a friend from a distant city. 
There was a glance of recognition and he was swept away. 
What his fate was I do not know. 

That same moment I received what was supposed to 
be my death wound. Whilst the men were lying down, 
my duties kept me on my feet. Lieutenant Charles Mc- 
Dougal,* commanding the color company, called to me 
that the color-guard were all either killed or wounded. 
We had two stands of colors, the national and State flags. 
These colors were carried by two color-sergeants, pro- 
tected by six color-corporals, which made up the color- 
guard. If either sergeant became disabled the nearest cor- 
poral took the colors, and so on until the color-guard were 
down. This was the condition when this officer called to 
me to replace these disabled men, so that the colors should 
be kept flying. He had one flag in his hand as I ap- 
proached him, and he was in the act of handing it to me 
when a bullet crashed through his arm and wrist, spatter- 
ing my face with his warm blood. I seized the staff as it 

* Lieutenant, afterwards Captain, Charles McDougal was a Metho- 
dist minister before he entered the army. If he could preach as well 
as he could fight, he was worthy of a commission in the church mili- 
tant. 



War from the Inside 

fell from his shattered arm. The next instant a bullet cut 
the staff away just below my hand. An instant later I 
was struck on the head by the fragment of a shell and fell 
unconscious with the colors in my hand. How long I 
remained unconscious I do not know, possibly twenty 
minutes or more. What were my sensations when hit? 
I felt a terrific blow, but without pain, and the thought 
flashed through my mind, " This is the end," and then 
everything was black. I do not remember falling. It 
takes time to write this, but events moved then with 
startling rapidity. From the time we went forward from 
the embankment until the line was swept back could have 
been but a few minutes, otherwise all must have been 
killed. 

When I revived I was alone with the dead and 
wounded. The line of battle had been swept away.' The 
field about me was literally covered with the blue uni- 
forms of our dead and wounded men. The firing had 
very perceptibly decreased. I had worn into the battle 
my overcoat, with my sword buckled on the outside. I 
had been hit on the left side of my head, and that side 
of my body was covered with blood down to my feet, 
which was still flowing. My first thought was as to my 
condition, whether mortally wounded or not. I was per- 
ceptibly weakened from loss of blood, but lying there I 
could not tell how much strength I had left. I did not 
dare move, for that would make me a target for the guns 
that covered that terrible wall, the muzzles of which I 
could plainly see. Many of them were still spitting out 
their fire with a venom that made my position exceedingly 
uncomfortable. What should I do? What could I do? 

122 



The Battle of Fredericksburg 

To remain there was either to bleed to death or be taken 
prisoner and sent to Libby, which I felt would mean for 
me a sure lingering death. To make a move to get off 
the field would draw the fire of those guns, which would 
surely finish me. These were the alternatives. 

I carefully stretched my legs to test my strength, and 
I made up my mind I had enough left to carry me off the 
field, and I resolved to take my chances in the effort. I 
determined that I would zigzag my course to the rear 
so as not to give them a line shot at me. So getting 
myself together I made a supreme effort and sprang up 
and off in jumps, first to the right, then to the left. As 
I expected, they opened on me, and the bullets flew thick 
and fast about me. The first turn I got a bullet through 
my right leg just above the ankle. It felt like the stinging 
cut of a whip and rather accelerated my speed. About 
fifty yards back was an old slab fence to my right, and I 
plunged headlong behind that, hoping to find shelter from 
those bullets. I fell directly behind several other wounded 
men, two of whom rolled over dead from bullets that came 
through the slabs and which were probably aimed at me. 
This flushed me again, and by the same zigzag tactics 
I succeeded in getting back to the railroad embankment, 
where, to my great joy, I found Colonel Albright with 
what remained of the regiment. Colonel Albright 
grasped me in his arms as I came over, with the exclama- 
tion, " We thought you were killed." Sergeant-Major 
Clapp told me that he had rolled me over and satisfied 
himself that I was dead before they went back. 

As I reached cover under this embankment I remember 
noticing a field-officer rallying his men very near us on 

123 



War from the Inside 

our right, and that instant his head was literally carried 
away by a shell. So intense was the situation that even 
this tragic death received only a passing thought. Then 
came the Irish brigade, charging over our line as they did 
at Antietam. They came up and went forward in fine form, 
but they got but a few yards beyond the embankment, 
when they broke and came back, what was left of them, 
in great confusion. No troops could stand that fire. 
Our division and the whole Second Corps, in fact, were 
now completely disorganized, and the men were making 
their way back to the city and the cover of the river-bank 
as best they could, whilst the splendid old Ninth Corps 
was advancing to take its place. Profiting by our experi- 
ence, they did not advance by those streets through which 
we came, but made their way through houses and yards 
and so escaped that concentrated fire on the streets. Their 
advancing lines, covering the whole city front, looked 
magnificent, and it was dreadful to think that such a 
splendid body of men must march into such a slaughter- 
pen. Their movement was a repetition of ours. With 
bayonets unfixed they moved forward and attempted to 
maintain a firing-line under Marye's Heights on the 
ground from which we had been driven, only to be hurled 
mercilessly back as we had been. Our line had been the 
first to make this effort, and for some reason we had 
approached to within about one hundred yards of their 
main line of infantry, much closer than any of the troops 
that followed. The others had barely got beyond the em- 
bankment, when they were swept away. We, having ap- 
proached nearer their line, were, of course, longer exposed 
to their fire and lost more heavily. 

124 



The Battle of Fredericksburg 

I was always curious to know why we of the first line 
of that fateful movement succeeded in getting so much 
nearer their works than the equally brave and determined 
men who followed us. Some years afterwards on re- 
visiting this location I met an ex-Confederate who com- 
manded one of the rebel batteries on those heights that 
day. In answer to my questions, he said the first 
" Yankee" line was permitted to approach much nearer 
than those that followed, for, said he, " we knew they 
were our meat, and when we finally opened on them 
with our full force, the slaughter was so awful it made 
me heart sick. But you kept coming with such persist- 
ency that we did not dare repeat those tactics." This 
may have been partially true so far as concerned their 
infantry fire, but a more potent reason, in my judgment, 
was that we had developed the utter hopelessness of the 
attempt, and men could not put heart into the effort. 

Recurring to myself again. Colonel Albright stanched 
the flowing of blood from my wound in the head by 
making a strong compress of my large bandana hand- 
kerchief. The other wound in my leg did not give me 
much trouble then. In that condition, accompanied by 
another wounded man, I made my way back into the 
city. We found it one vast hospital. Every house was 
literally crowded with wounded men. We were fortu- 
nate enough to run against our brigade surgeon, who 
had taken possession of a brick building on the main 
street for hospital purposes. The only thing he could 
give me to lie down upon was a wooden bench. We 
had dismounted and left our horses with a servant when 
we went forward, and our blankets, etc., were with them, 

125 



War from the Inside 

and where they were now there was no means of know- 
ing. I was therefore without those comforts. Every- 
thing of that nature left by the rebels had long before 
been appropriated. The doctor hastily examined my 
wounds, pronounced them not dangerous, ordered the hos- 
pital steward to dress them, and was away. He, how- 
ever, appropriated my red handkerchief. I had been 
presented by a friend on leaving Scranton with two large 
old-fashioned red silk bandana handkerchiefs, and they 
were exceedingly useful. The doctor, seeing them, said, 
" I must have these to nail up over the outside door to 
show that this is a hospital," and, without so much as say- 
ing by your leave, carried them off. The effort was to 
secure as much protection as possible from the fire of the 
enemy, and to do this the red flag of the hospital must be 
displayed. It is against the rules of civilized warfare to 
fire upon a hospital. The doctor said my red silk hand- 
kerchiefs were the first red stuff of any kind he had been 
able to get hold of. Of course I was glad to part with 
them for that purpose, though they were worth at that 
time $2 each in gold. The wound in my head was for- 
tunately a glancing blow from a fragment of a shell. It 
tore the scalp from the bone about three inches in length 
in the form of a V. It has never given me serious trouble, 
more than to be a barometer of changing weather. The 
wound in my leg nearly severed the big tendon. They 
both quickly healed, and I was off duty with them but the 
one day I took to get back to camp. 

After my wounds had been dressed I tried to sleep, 
being not only very weak from loss of blood, but almost 
in a condition of nervous exhaustion. I laid down on my 

126 



The Battle of Fredericksburg 

bench, but shells were continually crashing through the 
building, and sleep was impossible. I went out on the 
street. It was crowded with wounded and straggling 
soldiers. The stragglers were hunting for their regi- 
ments, the wounded for hospital room. It seemed as if 
the army must have disintegrated. This was practically 
true of the Second and Ninth Corps, which had made the 
assault. Towards night General French rode down the 
street, accompanied by his staff. Seeing me, he stopped 
his horse and exclaimed, " Adjutant, where is my divi- 
sion ? Tell me where my men are. My God, I am with- 
out a command !" and the tears were flowing down his 
red, weather-beaten face. He was beside himself over the 
awful losses of his division. Well he might be, for a 
great number of them were lying on yonder field in front 
of Marye's Heights, and the balance were scattered 
through the houses and on the river-bank practically 
disorganized. 

I was greatly alarmed for our safety that night. It 
seemed to me highly probable that General Lee would 
come down upon us and capture all that were in the city, 
as he could easily have done. Possibly he was satisfied 
with the damage already inflicted, and did not care to 
assume the care of our wounded, which that would have 
involved. I remained on my bench in that hospital 
through that long night without food or covering. I had 
eaten nothing since early morning. With the constant 
whanging of shells through ours and adjacent buildings 
and the moaning of the wounded lying all about me, 
sleep or rest was impossible. It was a night too dreadful 
to think of, and makes me shudder again as I write. We 

127 



War from the Inside 

remained in the city the next day, Sunday, and I rejoined 
our regiment, which, with other troops, was lying under 
the shelter of the river-bank. Officers were getting their 
men together as far as possible and bringing order out of 
chaos. We had Sunday about two hundred for duty out 
of three hundred and fifty taken into the battle. On Mon- 
day, the 15th, we who were wounded were told to make 
our way across the river back to our old camps as best we 
could. I was now very weak, and my head and leg were 
very sore. The latter gave me much trouble in walking, 
nevertheless there was a three-mile tramp before us. 
Lieutenant Musselman, also wounded, went with me on 
this weary tramp. We did not reach camp that night, and 
so had to find shelter at a farm-house, already full of 
straggling and wounded soldiers. The owner was a 
widow, living with a grown-up daughter, and was a bitter 
rebel, although professing Union sentiments whilst our 
army was there. She was, of course, greatly annoyed by 
the presence of these soldiers, most of whom were eating 
up her provisions without paying for them. Some of 
them were " bummers," who had run away from the 
battle and had persuaded her to feed and shelter them for 
the protection they professed to afford her. She was in 
great wrath when we reached there and peremptorily for- 
bade us entering. But I told her firmly that we were 
wounded men and must have shelter; that I would will- 
ingly pay for accommodations, but, permission or not, the 
latter we must have. This argument seemed to be con- 
vincing, and the daughter led us up to the garret, which, 
she said, was the only unoccupied room in the house. 
Here she spread a blanket on the floor for us to sleep on. 

128 



The Battle of Fredericksburg 

I suppose this was the best she could do. Then, at our 
solicitation, she got us some supper, an exceedingly frugal 
meal, but we were glad to get that. The daughter did not 
seem to share her mother's bitterness, but as often as she 
could would interject a word in our favor, and really did 
all she could for us. I sincerely hope she was ultimately 
made a permanent prisoner by some good " boy in blue." 
Here would have been an excellent opportunity to have 
woven into this narrative the golden thread of romance. 
This pretty secesh girl, with flashing blue eyes and golden 
hair, rebel to the core, yet befriending a wounded Union 
soldier, etc. How readily it lends itself, but the truth 
must be told. The little arrow god had already driven 
home his shaft, and so the romance could not mature. 

During the evening General Franz Sigel and staff 
came to the house and demanded supper. Our lady was 
very polite, assured him that it was impossible. " Very 
well," said General Sigel, " I think I shall want this place 
to-morrow for a hospital. Madam, your kindness will be 
reciprocated." He spoke very emphatically, whereat the 
pretty daughter began to cry, and the mother to stammer 
apologies, and said she would do the best she could for 
them, but she really had nothing to cook. The general 
retired very indignant. Whether or not his threat was 
carried out I do not know, for the next morning we were 
off without trying to get breakfast. On asking for her 
bill we were surprised to find her charges were evidently 
based on the highest war-time hotel rates. We had so 
poor a supper that we had no desire for breakfast there, 
and had slept on the garret floor. For this she demanded 
one dollar. We paid her fifty cents, which was more than 
9 129 



War from the Inside 

double its worth, and left amidst a great volley of her 
choicest anathemas. 

We reached camp towards noon, and found we had 
tramped about five miles out of our way. The regiment 
was there ahead of us, the troops having evacuated 
Fredericksburg on Monday, two days after the battle, 
without opposition. We were actually under fire in this 
battle, that is, from the time the assault began until we 
were swept back, probably not more than thirty minutes 
as against four and one-half hours at Antietam. Yet our 
losses were proportionately much heavier. During my 
absence on sick leave, our regiment, after leaving War- 
renton, had been detailed on heavy " fatigue" duty, load- 
ing and unloading vessels and various kinds of laborer's 
work at Belle-plain, and in consequence many were on 
the sick list, others were on various details, so that when 
we went into this battle we had only three hundred and 
fifty men for duty, against seven hundred and fifty at 
Antietam. Of this number my diary, written the 15th, 
says we lost : Killed, 7 ; wounded, 80 ; missing, 20 ; total, 
107. Lieutenant Hoagland, Company H, was killed. Of 
the wounded, four were officers, — Captain Richard Still- 
well and First Lieutenant John B. Floyd, Company K; 
First Lieutenant Musselman, Company E, and First Lieu- 
tenant McDougal, commanding Company C. Lieutenant 
McDougal's arm was shattered by a minie-ball whilst 
handing me the colors, detailed above. Captain Still- 
well received a very singular wound. A bullet struck 
the side of his neck near the big artery and appeared to 
have gouged out a bit of flesh and glanced off. It bled 
more than this circumstance would have seemed to war- 

130 



The Battle of Fredericksburg 

rant, but the captain was sure he was not hurt and made 
light of it. Swelhng and pain speedily developed in his 
shoulder, and it was found that tlie missile, instead of 
glancing off, had taken a downward course and finally 
lodged near his shoulder-joint, a distance of ten or twelve 
inches from where it entered. He was given leave of 
absence on account of wounds, and the ball was cut out 
after his return home, and ultimately the whole channel 
made by the ball had to be opened, when it was found 
lined with whiskers which the ball had carried in with it. 
Most of those computed above as missing were un- 
doubtedly killed, but had not been so reported at that time. 
Our loss in that half-hour was nearly one-third. One 
stand of our colors, the one whose staff was shot away in 
my hand, was. missing, and the other was badly torn by 
shells and bullets. 



131 



CHAPTER XI 



WHY FREDERICKSBURG WAS LOST 

I PROMISED to give my convictions relative to the 
responsibility for the disaster of Fredericksburg, and I 
might as well do it here. 

Recalling the fact heretofore stated that we seemed to 
have been thrown against Marye's Heights to be sacri- 
ficed; that we were not ordered to charge their works, 
but to advance and maintain a line of battle-fire where 
such a thing was absolutely impossible, I come to the in- 
quiry, what was the character and purpose of the move- 
ment and why did it fail ? So thoroughly impressed was 
I that there was something radically wrong about it, that 
I determined to solve that question if possible, and so 
made a study of the subject at that time and later after 
my return home. I had personal friends in the First and 
Sixth Corps, which had operated on the extreme left, and 
I discussed with them the movements that day. Finally, 
after my return home, I got access to Covode's con- 
gressional reports on the conduct of the war covering that 
campaign, and from all these sources learned what I then 
and now believe to be substantially the facts about that 
campaign. The army was divided into three grand divi- 
sions, composed of two army corps each, namely, the Sec- 
ond and Ninth, the right grand division, commanded by 
Sumner; the First and Sixth, the left grand division, 

132 



Why Fredericksburg was Lost 

commanded by Franklin, and the Third and Fifth, the 
centre, commanded by Hooker, The plan of battle was to 
hold Lee's army at Fredericksburg by a " feint in force" 
(which means an attack sufficiently strong to deceive the 
enemy into the belief that it is the real or main attack) at 
that point, whilst the left grand division was to throw a 
pontoon bridge across the river three miles below and turn 
his flank {i.e., get behind them) in the rear of Marye's 
Heights. For this purpose the left grand division was to 
advance and attack vigorously. H successful, Lee would 
then have been between Franklin's forces on the left and 
our own on the right, with every possibility of being 
crushed. Hooker was to hold his division in readiness to 
support either wing. Had this plan been carried out, 
our work at the right would, at its conception, have been 
as it appeared to be, a mad sacrifice of men, but with an 
opportunity later on of pushing forward and reaping a 
victory. In that event, our position would have made 
us a tremendous factor in the result. 

Now how was the plan carried out? The student will 
be puzzled on finding such a paucity of records concerning 
this disastrous movement. The official documents are 
remarkable for what they do not contain. A study of 
Covode's reports on the conduct of the war will, I think, 
justify my conclusions, viz., that the disaster of Fred- 
ericksburg was due not to accident, nor to a faulty plan 
of battle, but to a failure of the left grand division to per- 
form the vital part assigned to it. My information gained 
at the time was that Franklin was to remain concealed 
until the signal for our attack came ; then he was to cross 
over and attack vigorously, a military expression, mean- 

^33 



War from the Inside 

ing to put all possible vigor and power into the movement. 
The signal was given as our attack began. Whatever 
force may have crossed the river at that time, my informa- 
tion was that the division known as the Pennsylvania 
Reserve, now numbering probably not more than six 
thousand men, under General Meade, was the only body 
of troops which made a determined attack on Lee's right, 
in support of our work in front of Marye's Heights. 
Realizing the opportunity, General Meade pushed forward 
with his usual vigor and, though meeting strenuous oppo- 
sition, soon found himself well in Lee's rear, but without 
support. He sent back aide after aide to hurry forward 
the supporting lines, but without avail, finally galloping 
back himself. He found General Birney resting near the 
bridge with his division. An eye-witness * to Meade's 
interview with Birney says the language of General 
Meade as he upbraided Birney for not coming to his 
support was enough to " almost make the stones creep;" 
that Meade was almost wild with rage as he saw the 
golden opportunity slipping away and the slaughter of his 
men going for naught. He said Birney responded that he 
agreed with General Meade fully, and was ready and 
most anxious to come to his support, but that his orders 



* This eye-witness was Captain Haviland, Company G, One Hun- 
dred and Forty-second Pennsylvania Volunteers, whose regiment 
was attached to the Pennsylvania Reserves, and which lost in that 
charge two hundred and forty-three men killed and wounded. Cap- 
tain Haviland had been wounded, and was making his way with 
Major John Bradley, also wounded, to the hospital. They hap- 
pened to be passing Birney's head-quarters when Meade rode up, 
and heard the whole interview. 

134 



Why Fredericksburg was Lost 

were peremptory to await further orders in his present 
position : that he had been for an hour trying to find 
General Franklin to obtain permission to move forward. 
This loss of time and want of support to Meade's charge 
changed a possible victory into a fearful disaster. This 
was substantially the testimony of Major-General Reyn- 
olds, commanding the First Corps, before the Committee 
on the Conduct of the War. Burnside rode down to the 
left and vigorously expostulated with Franklin for his 
failure to carry out his orders, and peremptorily ordered 
him to make the attack as originally directed, whilst he 
repeated the movement at the right. It was now con- 
siderably after noon, and this order was undoubtedly a 
mistake. The plan of battle had been revealed, and there 
was practically no hope of success. Had the left grand 
division vigorously performed its part in the earlier move- 
ment, can any one doubt the result? I cannot think so. 
Had Meade, Reynolds, or Hancock been in command on 
the left that day, I feel confident that Fredericksburg 
would have been recorded a glorious victory instead of 
a horrible slaughter. 

Now, why did the left grand division fail to make the 
attack as ordered? Halleck, in his report on the opera- 
tions at Fredericksburg, says " alleged misunderstanding 
of orders." Here is his language : 

" It was intended that Franklin's grand division, con- 
sisting of the corps of Reynolds (First) and Smith 
(Sixth), should attack the enemy's right and turn his po- 
sition on the heights in the rear of Fredericksburg, while 
Sumner and Hooker attacked him in front. But by some 
alleged misunderstanding of orders Franklin's operations 

135 



War from the Inside 

were limited to a mere reconnoissance, and the direct 
attacks of Sumner and Hooker were unsupported." 
" Rebellion Records," vol. xxi., page 47. 

Is the theory of a misunderstanding of orders tenable ? 
The records show that on the nth of December, two 
days before the battle, Burnside ordered his division com- 
manders to so dispose their troops as to bring them within 
easy reach of Fredericksburg, and that on that day at 
twelve o'clock noon these officers were ordered to meet 
him personally at his head-quarters for final instructions. 
There are no records of what those instructions were, but 
is it credible that either general retired from that con- 
ference with a misunderstanding as to the plan of battle or 
of his own part in it? Certain it is that neither Sumner 
nor Hooker misunderstood. , 

And the excuse said to have been made by Franklin, 
that he did not deem the attack on the left practicable, is 
not consistent with the idea of misunderstanding. Other- 
wise, why did he attack at all ? General Halleck's guarded 
language clearly indicates where he placed the respon- 
sibility for that disaster, and that he did not credit the 
" misunderstanding of orders" theory. It is plainly evi- 
dent Burnside did not accept that excuse, as appears from 
his celebrated Order No. 8, issued a month later, relieving 
Franklin, Smith, Newton, Cochran, and Ferrero, and 
stating as his reason that " it being evident that these 
officers can be of no further service to this army," — the 
first named being the commander of the left grand di- 
vision, the second the commander of the Sixth Corps, and 
the others subordinate commanders in that wing of the 
army. General Burnside explained to the Committee 

136 



Why Fredericksburg was Lost 

on the Conduct of the War * that in asking the Presi- 
dent to approve this order, and making that a condi- 
tion upon which he would consent to remain at the head 
of the army, he had expHcitly stated, " that was the 
only condition on which he could command the Army of 
the Potomac." In other words, he could not command 
that army with those officers as his subordinates. The 
inference that there had been insubordination is inevitable. 
It was the current belief amongst us officers of the army 
that the battle of Fredericksburg had been lost through a 
want of hearty co-operation, if not direct disobedience of 
orders, on the part of the officer commanding on the left 
that day, and some of his subordinates, and that this was 
due to a spirit of jealousy. McClellan had but recently 
been removed from the command of the army, and the 
officers relieved were strong personal friends and partisans 
of the latter. Again, Burnside, his successor, was alleged 
to be junior in actual rank to Franklin. Whether either 
of these facts supplied the motives for the jealousy which 
lost that battle, if such was true, the judgment day alone 
will reveal. It is devoutly to be hoped that the light of 

* This order was dated January 23, 1863, and can be found 
in the Annual American Cyclopaedia, 1863, page 79, with a copious 
extract from the report of the Committee of Congress on the Con- 
duct of the War. It is there stated that this order was issued sub- 
ject to the President's approval, and was sent to Washington for 
that purpose, General Burnside soon following and interviewing the 
President. It is also stated that it was not approved and was not 
published. How, then, did I come in possession of its main features, 
so as to note them in my diary at the time? And how should my 
recollection of them be so clear, as they certainly are, unless it had 
been made public. Possibly the press may have published it. It 
was certainly published in some form. 

137 



War from the Inside 

that day will relieve the terrible disaster of Fredericksburg 
of this awful shadow, and that nothing worse than a 
" misunderstanding of orders" was responsible for it. 

That Order No. 8 was disapproved at Washington, and 
General Burnside promptly tendered his resignation of the 
command of the Army of the Potomac. He felt that he 
had not received and was not likely to receive the cordial 
and hearty support of all his subordinate officers, and 
under those circumstances he did not want the respon- 
sibility of command. He expressed himself as anxious 
to serve his country and willing to work anywhere it 
might please the President to place him. He was not 
relieved, however, until a month or so later. In writing 
the foregoing I know that many brave men will take ex- 
ception. I would say, however, that I have made a some- 
what careful study of the subject from an absolutely un- 
prejudiced stand-point, and such are the conclusions I 
reached, and they were shared by many of my fellow-ofifi- 
cers who were in that campaign. The losses in this battle 
amount to nearly one-third the troops actually engaged, 
a most remarkable fact, and which stamps this engagement 
as one of the bloodiest in all history. Burnside reports 
his loss as twelve hundred and eighty-four killed and nine 
thousand six hundred wounded, making a total loss, in- 
cluding the missing, of twelve thousand six hundred and 
fifty-three. Of this loss the right grand division (the 
Second and Ninth Corps) lost five thousand three hundred 
and eleven. The left grand division, Franklin's (First 
and Sixth Corps, which numbered considerably more than 
the right grand division), lost three thousand four hun- 
dred and sixty-two, and most of this was sustained in the 

138 



Why Fredericksburg was Lost 

second attack in the afternoon. These facts sustain the 
behef above referred to in the army, that the main attack 
in the morning on the left was not what it should have 
been, and was the cause of the disaster. 

A remarkable fact connected with this loss is the 
great number of wounded as compared with the killed. 
Usually the former exceeds the latter in the proportion 
of three and four to one, but at Fredericksburg it was 
nearly nine to one. How this is to be explained I never 
understood, unless it be that most of the casualties were 
from exploding shells. The minute fragments of a shell 
scatter very widely and wound, whilst there are fewer of 
the large pieces which kill. For example, the shell that 
exploded in the front of our second company, as it was 
turning to enter the street leading out towards Marye's 
Heights, previously described, knocked out ten men, only 
one of whom was instantly killed. It is safe to estimate 
that of the nine thousand six hundred reported as 
wounded, one-third died or were permanently disabled 
therefrom. 

To show how quickly troops can recover from such a 
shock as the disaster of Fredericksburg, the Second Corps 
had a grand review back of Falmouth the second week 
after the battle. Major-General Edwin V. Sumner, com- 
manding the right grand division, was the reviewing offi- 
cer. I have spoken before of this distinguished officer. 
This was his farewell to the Second Corps, which he had 
long commanded and to which he was greatly attached, a 
sentiment which was most cordially reciprocated by the 
men. He was now probably the oldest in years of all the 
officers in the amy, yet still vigorous, intrepid, and effi- 

139 



War from the Inside 

cient. He was relieved from active command in the field 
and assigned to the command of the Department of the 
Ohio, but a few months later died peacefully at his home 
in New York. Is it not singular that this old hero should 
have escaped the numberless missiles of death, in all 
the battles through which he had passed, so soon to suc- 
cumb in the quietude of retirement ? 

Our regiment had present at this review but few over 
two hundred men, and the other regiments were propor- 
tionally small, so that the corps was scarcely larger than 
a good-sized division, yet it appeared in splendid condi- 
tion. Its depleted numbers and battle-scarred flags alone 
told the story of its recent experiences. The following 
week our regiment was detailed for a ten-days' tour of 
picket duty, and was encamped some distance above Fal- 
mouth in a pretty grove. This change of service was a 
welcome one to the men in many respects, for there was 
better foraging opportunities, and there was also consider- 
able excitement attending this service in the presence of 
the enemy. The Rappahannock River was the dividing 
line of the two armies, and their respective pickets lined 
its banks. At this time the two lines were kept as far as 
possible concealed from each other, though there was 
practically no picket firing. Later on the two lines were 
posted in full view of each other, and by agreement under 
a " flag of truce" all picket firing was strictly forbidden. 
Thereafter, although forbidden, there was more or less 
conversation carried on between the two lines. 



140 



CHAPTER XII 



LOST COLORS RECOVERED 

In addition to our heavy loss of men at Fredericksburg 
was the loss of our colors, the stand whose staff had 
been shot away in my hand as described in a former 
chapter. 

It can be well understood that we felt very keenly the 
loss of our flag, although we knew that it had been most 
honorably lost. It was known to have been brought off 
the field in the night by Corporal William I. D. Parks, 
Company H, one of the color-guard, who was mortally 
wounded, and left by him in a church used as a temporary 
hospital. Corporal Parks was removed to a hospital at 
Washington, where he died shortly afterwards, and the 
colors mysteriously disappeared. The act of this color- 
bearer in crawling off the field with his colors, wounded as 
he was to the death, was a deed of heroism that has few 
parallels. We made every effort to find the flag, but with- 
out success, and had concluded that it must have been left 
in Fredericksburg, and so fallen into the hands of the 
enemy, when a couple of weeks after the battle, on return- 
ing from a ride down to Falmouth, I noticed a regiment 
of our troops having dress parade. I rode near them, 
and my attention was at once attracted to the fact that 
they paraded three stands of colors, a most unusual cir- 
cumstance. My suspicion was at once aroused that here 

141 



War from the Inside 

were our lost colors. Riding closer, my joy was great 
on recognizing our number and letters on their bullet- and 
shell-tattered folds, " 132 P. V." Anger immediately suc- 
ceeded my joy as I saw that our precious colors were 
being paraded as a sort of trophy. This flag, under whose 
folds so many of our brave men had fallen, and which 
had been so heroically rescued from the field, exhibited 
to the army and the world as a trophy of the battle by 
another regiment ! It was, in effect, a public proclamation 
of our cowardice and dishonor and of their prowess in 
possessing what we had failed to hold and guard, our 
sacred colors. It stung me to the quick. I do not re- 
member ever to have been more beside myself with anger. 
It was with difficulty that I contained myself until their 
ceremony was over, when I rode up to the colonel, in the 
presence of all his officers, and in a voice which must 
have betrayed my emotion, demanded to know why he 
was parading our colors. His reply was, " Those are 

the colors of a d d runaway regiment which my men 

picked up on the battle-field of Fredericksburg." My 
hair and whiskers were somewhat hot in color those days, 
and I have not kept a record of my language to that 
colonel for the next few minutes. I sincerely hope the 
recording angel has not. Still, I am sure it was the ex- 
plosion of a righteous indignation. 

Full of wrath I galloped at topmost speed to camp and 
made known my discovery to Colonel Albright. If I 
was " hot," what shall be said of him? Of a fiery, mer- 
curial disposition, his temper flew in a moment. He 
mounted his horse and bade me lead him to this regi- 
ment. The brave heralds who carried " the good news 

142 



Lost Colors Recovered 

from Ghent to Aix," did not gallop faster than did we 
two, and the wicked fellow who was hired to say two 
dollars' worth of " words" for the Quaker did not do his 
work a bit more effectively than did my brave colonel in 
denouncing the man who had made that charge of cow- 
ardice against our regiment. Well, he began to hedge im- 
mediately. He evidently saw that there was trouble 
ahead, and offered to give us the colors at once, but 
Colonel Albright peremptorily refused to accept them that 
way, and said he would demand a court of inquiry and 
would require full and complete vindication, cost what it 
might. A court of inquiry was at once asked for and 
granted. It was made up of officers outside of our divi- 
sion, and was directed to investigate the loss of our flag, 
and how it came into the possession of this other regiment. 
Colonel Albright was a good lawyer and conducted his 
own case before the court. It came out in the investiga- 
tion that in making his report of the part his regiment 
took in the battle of Fredericksburg this colonel had used 
substantially the same language he had to me concerning 
how he came into possession of the flag. Here is the 
paragraph referring to our colors, taken from his report 
printed in the " Rebellion Records," vol. xxi., page 275 : 
" I would also state that some cowardly members of a 
regiment unknown (?) abandoned their colors, which 
were recovered by Captain Northrup, of my regiment, and 
saved the disgrace of falling into the hands of the enemy." 
My diary notes that I interviewed this Captain Northrup, 
and he promptly stated that he took the colors from the 
hospital and brought them with him when their regiment 
left Fredericksburg. He said he did not know how they 

" 143 



War from the Inside 

got into the hospital, but supposed a wounded sergeant 
had left them there. He disclaimed any idea of their hav- 
ing been abandoned in a cowardly manner, and could not 
understand why his colonel had made such a declaration. 
The statement that his men rescued them from an un- 
known regiment was false upon its face, for our name 
was inscribed on its folds in plain letters, " I32d P. V." 
Why he made such a statement, and why he treated the 
colors as he did, I could never understand, for had the 
statement been true it was outrageously unmilitary to pro- 
claim to the world the cowardice of one of our own regi- 
ments. It was his duty to promptly send the colors to 
head-quarters, with a statement of the facts, so that the 
alleged runaways could be properly disciplined. As it 
was, it seemed a most contemptible effort to secure a 
little cheap, unearned glory. It was heartlessly cruel and 
unworthy of a brave soldier. 

The result of the court of inquiry was a full and com- 
plete vindication of our regiment, as shown by the fol- 
lowing paragraph from an order issued by Major-General 
O. O. Howard, commanding the Second Corps : " The 
last color-bearer, badly wounded, left his regiment after 
dark, and in the town entered a church used as a hospital, 
taking his colors with him. He was carried away from 
this place and the colors left behind. The very fidelity of 
the color-bearer holding to his colors as long as he was 
conscious was the occasion of their loss to the regiment. 
Not only no fault should be found with this regiment, but 
it should receive unqualified commendation." 

General French, commanding our division, published 
this order to the division, adding the following : " As the 

144 



Lost Colors Recovered 

commander of the division, and knowing the character 
of the One Hundred and Thirty-second Pennsylvania 
Volunteers, which has fought under my eye in two of the 
bloodiest engagements of the war, and which has the 
highest encomiums from its brigade commander, General 
Kimball, who knows what brave men are, I have deemed 
it my duty to make this record to go with whatever may 
have transpired in reference to this subject during my 
short absence." The above paragraphs were taken from 
Bates's " History of Pennsylvania Volunteers." The 
colors were ordered returned to us with proper military 
honors. They were brought to General French's head- 
quarters by a military escort from that regiment, and I 
had the satisfaction of officially receiving them with a like 
escort from our regiment, commanded by First Lieutenant 
J. D. Laciar, of Company G. The ceremony was to us a 
joyous and impressive occasion. It took place in the 
presence of General Alfred Sully, temporarily command- 
ing the division, and staff, and our brigade officers. The 
two escorts were drawn up, facing each other. The order 
of Major-General Howard, above referred to, was read. 
This was followed by a little speech from General Sully, 
in which we came in for some more praise; then both 
escorts presented arms, whilst their color-bearer trans- 
ferred the colors to ours, and the ceremony was over. A 
happier escort never marched than was ours bearing home 
those restored colors. 

The weather was now getting very cold, and we set 

about making ourselves as comfortable as possible in 

camp. The men were allowed to fix up their tents as best 

they could without much regard for architectural beauty 

10 145 



War from the Inside 

or regularity. Some of them dug cellars four to five feet 
deep, made puncheon floors, — that is, floors made of split 
logs smoothed off and laid the flat side up, — whilst the 
sides were made of logs plastered up with mud. Mud 
fireplaces were made with old barrels for chimneys. The 
roofs were canvas, of course, but fairly waterproof. A 
favorite bit of horse-play of the men at this time was to 
watch when the occupants of some tent were having a 
good time, and smoke them out by throwing a wet blanket 
over the top of their barrel chimney. In about a second 
the smoke would be almost dense enough to suffocate, and 
every fellow would pile out and hunt for the culprit. Woe 
be unto him if they found him. A favorite ruse on the 
part of the culprit was to plunge into his tent and be 
placidly snoring when the victims began their hunt. 
Sometimes the simulation would be too sonorous, and 
give him away, and then he had trouble on hand for the 
next hour. The ingenuity of these sons of Belial in their 
pranks was beyond description. I have laughed until 
absolutely exhausted many a time. How did I know so 
much about them? Well, I had two of the liveliest of 
these boys in my office as clerks, and, as they were gen- 
erally in the fun, I was kept posted, and to tell the truth, 
as long as it did not seriously transgress, and there was 
fun in it, I knew nothing about it " officially." Often 
have I seen these boys put up a job on some fellow quietly 
sleeping, by smoking out his next-door neighbors and 
then directing their attention to him as the culprit. To 
see him hauled out of a sound sleep and mauled for some- 
thing he was entirely innocent of, vehemently protesting 
his innocence, yet the more he protested getting the more 

146 



Lost Colors Recovered 

punishment, the rascals who put up the job doing most 
of the punishing, I have nearly split my sides. Of course, 
no one was seriously hurt. The victim knew enough to 
keep his temper, and in the end enjoyed the lark as well 
as the rest. I speak of these things, for they were the 
oases in army life and drudgery. Except for them it 
would have been unendurable. Seldom were things so 
bad but that some bit of raillery would relieve the strain 
and get up a laugh, and everybody would feel better. 

We had a young fellow in one of the companies who 
was certainly the most comical genius I ever saw. He 
was known by a nickname only. No length of march and 
no severity of service could curb his spirits. When all 
were down in the dumps this fellow would perform some 
monkey-shine that would make even a horse laugh, and all 
would be in good spirits again. Colonel Albright used to 
say he was worth his weight in gold. He was with us 
until after Fredericksburg, where he was either killed or 
wounded, and I do not remember to have seen him after- 
wards. 

I have spoken of the men's winter-quarters. We offi- 
cers had our wall tents, and had them fixed up with 
puncheon floors also, and sheet-iron stoves, so that as 
long as we kept a fire burning all were fairly comfortable. 
But wood fires would last but an hour or so without re- 
plenishing, and so during the night we had great difficulty 
in keeping warm. Some of the coldest nights my clerks 
and myself took turns in keeping up our fire. I rather 
prided myself on the construction of my bed. It was made 
of two springy poles held in place by crotched sticks driven 
into the ground. On the poles nailed crosswise was a 

147 



War from the Inside 

bottom made of barrel-staves, the hollow side down, and 
on these was laid a bed of hay, kept in place by some 
old canvas sacking. On cold nights the only article of 
clothing we took off was our shoes or boots. Then rolling 
ourselves in our blankets, with gum blanket outside tucked 
well around our feet and the whole surmounted with our 
overcoats, we managed to sleep pretty well. These 
puncheon floors were all the proceeds of foraging. No 
lumber of any kind was furnished by the government. 
The men cut the trees and split the logs wherever they 
could find them. Most of them were " backed" into camp 
anywhere from one to four miles. 

After this little of note occurred in camp until Christ- 
mas. We had made ourselves as comfortable as we could 
with the materials at hand, which were not in super- 
abundance. The weather was what we were told was 
characteristic of Virginia winters, — rather mild, slush and 
mud, with its raw, disagreeable dampness, being the pre- 
vailing conditions. It was exceedingly trying to our men, 
and many, in consequence, were on the sick list. My diary 
notes that on Christmas day we actually had a little sun- 
shine, and that by way of adding good cheer to the occa- 
sion a ration of whiskey was issued to the men. The 
ration consisted of a gill for each man. Each company 
was marched to the commissary tent, and every man re- 
ceived his gill in his cup or drank it from the measure, 
as he preferred. Some of the men, who evidently were 
familiar with the intricacies of repeating in ward elections, 
managed in various ways to repeat their rations of this 
vile stuff until we had a good deal more than a gill of 
whiskey's worth of hilarity in camp. However, the noise 

148 



Lost Colors Recovered 

was winked at, believing it would soon subside and pass 
off. All drills were suspended and the men were allowed 
passes freely out of camp, being required to be in quar- 
ters promptly at taps. The officers passed the day visiting 
and exchanging the compliments of the season. The wish 
for a " Merry Christmas" was about all there was to 
make it such. I remember our bill of fare for Christmas 
dinner consisted of boiled rice and molasses, " Lobskous" 
and stewed dried apples. The etymology of the euphoni- 
ous word " Lobskous" I am unable to give. The disli 
consisted of hardtack broken up and thoroughly soaked 
in water, then fried in pork fat. I trust my readers will 
preserve the recipe for a side dish next Christmas. One 
of the boys, to show his appreciation of this extra fare 
for Christmas dinner, improvised the following blessing : 

" Good Lord of love 
Look down from above 
And see how a soldier's grub has mended, — 

Slushed rice, Lobskous, and shoat, 
Where only hardtack and hog were intended." 

The day was not without its fun, however. Among 
other things, an impromptu foot-race was gotten up be- 
tween the Fourth New York and our regiment. The for- 
mer regiment, with which we were now brigaded, was 
from New York City, and in its general make-up was 
decidedly " sporty." They had in their ranks specimens 
of almost all kinds of sports, such as professional boxers, 
wrestlers, fencers, and runners. One of the latter had 
been practising in the morning, and some of our boys had 
remarked that " he wasn't much of a runner," whereupon 
they were promptly challenged to produce a man who 

149 



War from the Inside 

could beat him, for a cash prize of twenty dollars in gold. 
Win or lose, our fellows were not to be bluffed, and so 
promptly accepted the challenge. Back they came to camp 
with their " bluff," to look up a man to meet this pro- 
fessional. So far as our men were concerned, it was 
another case of the Philistine defying the armies of Israel. 
Where was our David? All hands entered into the fun, 
from the colonel down. The race was to be a one- 
hundred-yard dash from a standing mark. We found our 
man in Corporal Riley Tanner, of Company I. He was 
a lithe, wiry fellow, a great favorite in his company, and 
in some trial sprints easily showed himself superior to all 
of the others. He, however, had never run a race, except 
in boys' play, and was not up on the professional tactics 
of such a contest. It was decided that the affair should 
take place at five o'clock p.m., on our regimental front, 
and should decide the championship of the two regiments 
in this particular. The course was duly measured and 
staked off, and was lined on both sides by a solid wall of 
the men, nearly our whole division being present, in- 
cluding most of the officers. If the championship of the 
world had been at stake, there could hardly have been 
more excitement, so much zest did every one put into it. 
On the minute the Goliath of the bloody Fourth appeared, 
clad in the most approved racing garb. He was a stockily 
built young Irishman, and looked decidedly formidable, 
especially when our poor little David appeared a moment 
later, with no other preparation than his coat and cap off 
and pants rolled up. Nevertheless, our boys thoroughly 
believed in him, and we all gave him a rousing cheer. 
The signal was given and away leaped our little champion 

150 



Lost Colors Recovered 

like a frightened deer, literally running away from the 
professional from the start and beating him leisurely in 
the end by more than a dozen feet. Great was the furore 
which followed. The victor was carried on the shoulders 
of his comrades of Company I triumphantly back to his 
quarters, and afterwards through all the company streets, 
the victim of an immense popularity. Corporal Tanner, 
scarcely beyond his teens, was a good, brave, and true 
young man, popular with his comrades and faithful in 
all his duties. Was this little race, so short and gloriously 
won, prophetic of his life's brief course? He came home 
to survive but a few years, and then die of injuries re- 
ceived in the service. He was as much a sacrifice upon 
the altar of his country as if he had been killed in battle. 
He was long ago laid to rest in a soldier's grave. But 
he still lives in the hearts of his comrades. 

Here let me say a few words of our " friends, the 
enemy," we had just beaten, the Fourth New York. Its 
colonel was a Scotchman named McGregor, and he was a 
true McGregor, a splendid officer. He was in command 
of the brigade after Colonel Andrews was wounded at 
Fredericksburg, until himself disabled by a wound. His 
lieutenant-colonel was a captain in the New York police 
force when he entered the service, and after the .war as 
Inspector Jameson he achieved a national reputation. He 
was a splendid fellow personally, and physically a king 
among men. He stood six feet two inches, beautifully 
proportioned, square, and straight as an Indian, with heavy 
jet black hair and whiskers, and an eye that I imagine 
could almost burn a hole in a culprit. He could be both 
majestic and impressive when occasion required, and was 

151 



War from the Inside 

more gifted in all these things than any man I ever knew. 
The following incident will illustrate his use of them. I 
met him in Washington whilst returning to my regiment 
the day before the battle of Fredericksburg. I joined him 
just before reaching the wharf where we were to take the 
boat. He had been up to Washington on a day's pass, all 
any one could then get, and had for some reason over- 
stayed his leave. I think he had missed his boat the day 
before. In consequence he could not get a pass through 
the lines to go back. I asked how he expected to get 
through the provost guard. " Oh, that's easy," he said. 
'' Just watch me go through," and I did. There was a 
double guard at the entrance to the boat and a sergeant 
and lieutenant examining all passes. Jameson threw his 
cape over his shoulders to conceal his shoulder-straps, put 
on one of his majestic airs, looked the officer through, as 
much as to say, you do not presume to question my rights 
here, and waved him and the guards aside, and deliber- 
ately stalked aboard, as though he commanded the army. 
I came meekly along behind, pass in hand. The officer 
had by that time recovered himself sufficiently to ejacu- 
late, "Who the h — 1 is that — general?" I repeated the 
ejaculation to the colonel afterwards to his great amuse- 
ment. He was all right, and on his way to rejoin his 
regiment, where he was wounded next day, splendidly 
doing his duty. Because he had overstayed his leave 
twenty-four hours, red tape would have required him to 
remain in Washington, submit to a court-martial or court 
of inquiry, and probably after three or four weeks be sent 
back, duly excused, the country being deprived of his ser- 
vices in the mean time. 

152 



Lost Colors Recovered 

Well, to g-et back to Christmas. After the foot-race the 
men were given free rein until ten o'clock p.m., and passes 
out of camp were not required. As the evening wore on, 
it became evident that John Barleycorn had been getting 
in some extra work, from the character of the noise ema- 
nating from the company streets, and I became somewhat 
nervous about it. Lieutenant-Colonel Albright's tent ad- 
joined mine, and I could see that he was becoming a little 
exercised over this extra noise. The fear was that we 
might get a peremptory summons from division head- 
Cjuarters to " explain immediately the causes of the un- 
usual noises emanating from our regiment, and why it is 
not suppressed." Just about ten o'clock there was an 
extra outburst, and I noticed Colonel Albright, with sword 
dangling, pass rapidly out of his tent and down towards 
the company streets from whence the noise came. I feared 
trouble, and slipped on my boots and followed as quickly 
as possible. But before I reached the scene, the colonel 
had drawn his sword and ordered all the men to their 
quarters, at the same time striking right and left with the 
fiat of his sword, hitting two of the men. One proved to 
be a sergeant who was trying to quell the noise and get 
his men into quarters. The latter resented the blow and 
made a sharp retort to the colonel, who immediately re- 
peated it, whereupon the sergeant struck him a terrible 
blow in the eye with his fist, knocking him down. I got 
there just in time to see the colonel fall, and immediately 
seized the sergeant and placed him in arrest. He was 
handed over to the division provost guard. The colonel 
was found to be seriously hurt. His eye swelled up and 

153 



War from the Inside 

turned black and gave him great pain all night. And it 
was several days before he recovered the use of it. 

The most serious thing about this unfortunate culmina- 
tion of our Christmas festivities was not only the breach 
of discipline, but the present status of this sergeant. He 
was an exceptionally good non-commissioned officer, with 
a splendid record in both battles and in all service, yet he 
had now committed an offence the punishment for which, 
in time of war, was death, — viz., striking his superior 
commissioned officer. The next day Colonel Albright re- 
ported the affair to General French, commanding the divi- 
sion, who promptly advised him to prefer charges against 
the culprit and make an example of him. The matter was 
generally discussed by both officers and men in camp, and 
although it was felt that the sergeant had committed a 
grave offence, yet that the colonel was in a measure re- 
sponsible for it. The latter was justly popular with all as 
a brave officer and good man, yet he had been guilty him- 
self of an offence which had brought upon him the blow 
he had received. He had no right to strike a soldier as he 
did, even with the flat of his sword. Nor was it the 
proper thing for him to take the place of his " officer of 
the guard" or " officer of the day" in enforcing his own 
orders regulating camp discipline. He should have sent 
for the latter and required them to do their duty in the 
matter. As a matter of fact, this was just what the 
officer of the day was doing when the colonel appeared. 
The colonel sent for me next morning, on his return from 
General French's head-quarters, and freely told me of the 
advice of the latter, and indicated his purpose to proceed. 

This splendid man has long since entered into rest. No 

154 



Lost Colors Recovered 

truer man or braver officer entered the service than he, 
and it has been one of the greatest satisfactions of my 
Hfe that I was able to possess his confidence to the fullest 
degree. He invited my views now and he afterwards 
thanked me for the service I then rendered him by op- 
posing his contemplated action. He was still suffering 
very much from his injury and was in a poor mood to 
brook opposition. Nevertheless I felt that if he subjected 
this man to the possible results of a court-martial, later on 
he would never forgive himself, and I so told him. I 
reminded him of the mistake he had made in assuming 
the duties of his " officer of the day," and of his graver 
error, if not offence, in striking the men ; that such action 
would be very likely to produce similar results with almost 
any of the men upon whom it might be committed ; that 
he had failed to respect the rights of his men even in 
matters of discipline, and that all this being true, it would 
be a mistake he would always regret if he failed to treat 
this affair in as manly and generous a way as discipline 
would permit. It was an occasion of keen regret that I 
had to differ with Colonel Albright, for I really loved the 
man. He dismissed me rather cavalierly with his thanks 
for my drastic frankness. By his direction a meeting of 
all the officers of the regiment was summoned to meet at 
his head-quarters in the afternoon to give their views as 
to the course to be pursued. The question, as submitted 
by the colonel being one purely of discipline, seemed to 
admit of but one treatment, — viz., court-martial; and this 
was the unanimous sentiment as expressed in this meeting, 
although outside, I well knew nearly all had expressed 
themselves differently. Perhaps the way the colonel took 

155 



War from the Inside 

to get their views was partly responsible for his failure to 
get their real feelings. He began with the youngest lieu- 
tenant and asked each officer up to the senior captain, what 
he thought the offence merited. The answer was, " I sup- 
pose court-martial," None seemed willing to accuse the 
colonel of his own error, and to have answered otherwise 
would have involved that, so they simply replied as above. 
The colonel said, after all had given their answers, that 
the adjutant did not agree with him nor them, and called 
on me to state my position, saying I was to be excused, as 
he supposed the sergeant was a personal friend. Whilst 
it was true that I had known him at home, I disclaimed 
being influenced by that fact in this matter. The colonel, 
to my relief, adjourned the meeting without announcing 
his determination. I felt sure that a little more time 
would bring him to my way of thinking, and so it turned 
out. I saw the sergeant over at the provojt-guard tent, 
and found him very anxious about his situation and thor- 
oughly sorry for his hasty conduct towards the colonel, 
whom he sincerely respected. He said he felt terribly 
hurt at being so roughly treated. He was not to blame 
for the noise, but was actually doing his best to quiet the 
noisy ones and get them into quarters when the first inti- 
mation he had of the colonel's presence was the blow from 
his sword. He said this blow hurt him and roused his 
anger and he replied sharply, and on getting the second 
blow he struck without stopping to think of the conse- 
quences. I told the colonel of this conversation, and said 
if he would permit this man to express to him personally 
his sorrow for his conduct, and, under the circumstances, 
restore him to duty with no greater punishment than a 

is6 



Lost Colors Recovered 

loss of his rank as sergeant, I felt sure he would win the 
hearts of all the men and do an act he would always be 
glad of. Two days later, to my great joy, he ordered me 
to prepare an order practically embodying my recommen- 
dations, the order to be read at dress parade that day, 
and the prisoner to be publicly released at that time. I 
think I never performed a more willing or difficult task 
than reading that order on parade that afternoon. Just 
before the ceremony, the sergeant had been brought by 
the provost guard to the colonel's tent and had, in a manly 
way, expressed his sorrow for his act. The colonel had 
stated this fact to the regiment, and then directed me to 
read the order releasing the prisoner and restoring him to 
duty. The tears blinded my eyes and my emotions almost 
choked my voice as I tried to read, and I doubt if there 
was a dry eye in the ranks when I had finished. The out- 
come of the unfortunate affair was exceedingly satisfac- 
tory. The colonel, always popular, had now the hearts of 
all — officers and men. 



157 



CHAPTER XIII 



THE WINTER AT FALMOUTH 

Our brigade was now commanded by Lieutenant-Colo- 
nel Marshall, Tenth New York Volunteers, who was the 
senior officer present for duty. Colonels Kruger, First 
Delaware, and McGregor, Fourth New York, being ab- 
sent on account of wounds received at Fredericksburg, and 
Colonel Wilcox, of our regiment, absent, sick. I men- 
tion this to show how the exigencies of the service thrust 
upon junior officers the duties and responsibilities of much 
higher grades. Here a lieutenant-colonel was discharging 
the duties appertaining to a general ; sergeants frequently 
commanded companies, whilst a captain in command of a 
regiment was not an infrequent thing. These junior offi- 
cers performing the duties of higher grades got no more 
compensation than the pay of their actual rank. On the 
24th of January, Colonel Wilcox sent in his resignation, 
and Lieutenant-Colonel Albright was commissioned colo- 
nel. Major Shreve was promoted to be lieutenant-colonel, 
and I had the honor to receive the rare and handsome 
compliment of an election to the office of major, although, 
being a staff-officer, I was not in the regular line of pro- 
motion. Sergeant-Ma j or Clapp succeeded to my position 
as adjutant, and Private Frank J. Deemer, Company K, 
who had been a clerk in my office, was appointed sergeant- 
major. Just at this time I had a somewhat singular ex- 

158 



The Winter at Falmouth 

perience. I had received a three-days' leave of absence 
with permission to visit Washington on business for the 
officers. This detail I mention because no leaves of ab- 
sence other than for sickness or disability were obtainable 
at this time, except on urgent business for the officers of 
a regiment, and for but one officer to a regiment, and 
three days was the limit. To get to Washington — only 
about sixty miles away — I had to start from camp before 
daylight in the morning, ride three miles to the rail- 
road in a heavy, springless army wagon, across fields 
and over rutted roadways that were barely passable, 
the jolting of which was almost enough to shake one's 
bones loose; then ride twenty miles in a freight car, 
perched on whatever truck one could get a seat on, thence 
by boat to Washington. The morning was exceptionally 
cold and I had to leave without breakfast ; the result was 
I caught a severe cold, and when I reached my destination 
I was suffering terribly from an attack of dysentery, I 
was barely able to get to the Ebbitt House, the clerk of 
which seeing my plight summoned a physician, who had 
me sent to the Seminary Hospital for Officers at George- 
town, Here I received most excellent care. 

This institution was for officers only. There must have 
been upward of two hundred sick and wounded officers 
there at that time. It was under strict military rules. 
The surgeon in charge was its commanding officer, as 
absolute as though a general commanding a division in 
the field. When I reached the hospital I was registered, 
put to bed, and all clothing and personal effects taken 
from me. A warm bath followed with the assistance of 
a stalwart nurse and medicines were administered, and 

159 



War from the Inside 

I soon found relief in a refreshing sleep. A couple of 
days later I had a remarkable visit. I was not allowed to 
sit up yet, but a fine-looking old gentleman, wearing the 
insignia of a major-general, appeared at my cot and ex- 
tended his hand. His face was an exceedingly kind one 
and his voice, if possible, more so. His hair was white 
and he had the unmistakable appearance of advanced age, 
though he stood fully six feet high and was still square 
and unbent in form. He proceeded to say he had learned 
that a young officer bearing the name of Hitchcock had 
been taken suddenly very ill and sent to this hospital, and 
inasmuch as his name was Hitchcock, he was doubly in- 
terested to know, first how I was, and second who I was. 
My visitor was none other than Major-General Hitchcock, 
military attache of President Lincoln's cabinet and the 
first general commissioner for the exchange of prisoners 
of war. I think he was a retired regular army officer 
called from his retirement to special service as military 
adviser of the president and now in charge of the bureau 
for the exchange of prisoners of war. His call was very 
pleasant, and I learned from him that all of our name in 
this country were distantly related. That two brothers 
came to this country with the Regicides and settled, one 
in New Hampshire, the other at New Haven. He was 
of the former stock, whilst I was from the latter. On 
retiring he bade me call on him when well. I greatly 
regret I never had the opportunity of returning his 
gracious visit. On the cot next mine lay an officer con- 
valescing from a wound received at Fredericksburg. I 
have forgotten his name, but we soon became well ac- 
quainted, and he proved a valuable and companionable 

i6o 



The Winter at Falmouth 

acquaintance. He was the best posted man in military 
tactics I ever met, and was thoroughly familiar with all its 
branches from the school of the soldier to the grand tac- 
tics of a division. It was very profitable pastime for me 
to go over the tactics under his instruction, he illustrating 
each battalion movement by the use of matches on the 
coverlets of our cots. In that way I learned the various 
tactical movements as I had never been able to do before, 
and it was of immense value to me, having now been 
promoted to the position of a field-officer. This hospital 
was no better and in no wise different from those for 
private soldiers, except that we were charged a per diem 
for board, whereas there was no charge for the privates. 
I thought I could return at the end of a week, and asked 
to be discharged, but was rather curtly informed by the 
surgeon in charge that when the time came for my dis- 
charge he would inform me. 

The papers now contained rumors of another movement 
on foot, and, of course, I was very anxious to return. A 
few days later, after an examination, the doctor gave me 
my discharge. It was now ten days since I had left camp 
on a three-days' leave, but my discharge from the hos- 
pital operated as an extension, and I had no difficulty in 
getting transportation and passes through the lines to 
rejoin my regiment. I performed my errands for the 
officers of the regiment, which consisted in getting various 
articles for their comfort, and in several cases a bottle of 
something to " keep the cold out." As I write, I have 
before me, in perfect preservation, all the official papers 
covering that trip. Here are copies of the papers required 
to get back to the regiment. They will give an idea of the 
II i6i 



War from the Inside 

conditions, getting in and out of Washington at that time, 
as well as of the load I had to carry back : 

Head-quarters Military District of Washington, 
Washington, D. C, January 22, 1863. 
Lieutenant F. L. Hitchcock, I32d P. V., with servant, has per- 
mission to proceed to Falmouth, Va., for the purpose of rejoining 
his regiment, and to take the following articles for officers and 
men: (i) one drum, (3) three express packages, carpet sack con- 
taining liquors, (i) one box of provisions, (i) one box of clothing. 
Quartermaster please furnish transportation. 

By Command of Brigadier-General Martindale, Military Governor 
of Washington. 

John P. Sherburne, 

Assistant Adjutant-General. 
No. 247. 

Assistant-Quartermaster's Office, Sixth Street Wharf, 
Washington, D. C, January 23, 1863. 
Pass on government boat to Aquia Creek, three boxes and one 
drum, liquors and sutlers' stores strictly excluded. 
For Adjutant F. L. Hitchcock, 132 Pa. Vols. 

J. M. Robinson, 

Captain and A. Q. M. 

The word liquors above is erased with a pen. It is 
difficult at this day to realize that Washington was sur- 
rounded with a cordon of sentries. All places of entrance 
and exit were under the strictest military surveillance. 
General Martindale, as its military governor, was supreme 
in authority. No one could come or go, and nothing be 
taken in or out, without his permission. 

The servant included in the above pass was a " con- 
traband," picked up in Washington for the trip. There 
were hundreds of them clamoring for an opportunity 
to get down to the army. They were glad to do all 
one's drudgery for the chance of going, for once there, 

162 



The Winter at Falmouth 

plenty of jobs could be found, besides the excitement 
and attractions of " Uncle Sam's" army were to them 
irresistible. I reached camp early in the evening and 
delivered my supplies, the officers being promptly on 
hand to receive them. The return of an officer from 
" civilization" was an event of no ordinary moment, and I 
had many calls that evening. The following anecdote of 
Major-General Howard was told that evening, apropos of 
the delivery of the " commissions" I had brought. The 
general was well known to be uncompromising in his 
opposition to the presence of liquor of any kind in camp, or 
elsewhere, and especially among the members of his 
official family. Yet shortly after the battle of Fredericks- 
burg, one of his stafif had a present of a bottle of " old 
Rye." He put it away until some time during the gen- 
eral's absence he could safely bring it out and treat his 
fellow-members of the staff. The opportunity came one 
day when his chief announced his absence at army head- 
quarters for a couple of hours, and mounted and rode 
away. The hidden treasure was brought out and due 
preparation made for the delectation of all hands, and he 
was in the act of pulling the cork in front of his tent, when, 
suddenly hearing the clatter of horse's hoofs, he looked up 
just in time to see the general returning for a forgotten 
paper. He had barely time to swing the bottle behind his 
heels as he closed them in the position of a soldier, and 
arose and respectfully saluted. The position and salute 
were strictly according to army regulations, but with a 
general's own staff such formality was not usual. The 
general evidently caught the situation, for he was tanta- 
lizingly deliberate in acknowledging the salute, and finally 

163 



War from the Inside 

remarked, with a twinkle in his eye, looking him full in 

the face : " Mr, , your position is faultless and your 

punctiliousness in saluting truly admirable. Were you 
getting it ready to send to the hospital? Very com- 
mendable, indeed ; it will do so much good." And to the 
hospital, of course, it had to go, much to the chagrin of 
all the staff. 

The event of special interest at this time was the move- 
ment later known as the " mud march." Troops had for 
three days been moving up the river, destination, of 
course, unknown to us, but now they were returning, a 
most sorry, mud-bedraggled looking crowd. We were 
glad enough not to have been with them. Our corps had 
been for a week under marching orders, to move at a 
moment's notice, but the final order never came, and we 
were spared this experience. Whatever the movement 
was designed to be, it was defeated by plain, simple MUD. 
It should be spelled in the largest capitals, for it was all- 
powerful at this time. Almost immediately after the 
movement began, it commenced to rain heavily. The 
ground was already soggy from previous rains, and it 
soon became a vast sea of mud. I have already spoken of 
Virginia mud. It beggars description. Your feet sink 
into it frequently ankle deep, and you lift them out with 
a sough. In some places it seemed as bottomless as a pit 
of quicksand. The old-established roads were measurably 
passable, but, as I have heretofore explained, most of the 
troops had to march directly across the fields, and here it 
proved absolutely impossible to move the wagon-trains 
and artillery any distance. This was the main reason why 
the movement had to be abandoned. I saw many wagons 



The Winter at Falmouth 

down over their hubs, stalled in the mire. And the guns 
and caissons of a battery of artillery were stalled near our 
camp, and had to be abandoned for the time. The horses 
were saved from miring with great difficulty. A few days 
later the guns and caissons were hauled out with ropes. 

There were dead mules and mired and broken wagons 
all along the route of the marching troops. The number 
of animals that perished in this futile march must have run 
up into thousands, killed by exposure over pulling or 
miring. It should be understood that when the army 
moves, and the mule trains of ammunition and rations are 
ordered to move, they must go as long as it is physically 
possible, mule or no mule. The lives of a thousand mules, 
more or less, is nothing compared with the necessity of 
having ammunition and rations at the proper place at the 
required time. I saw one mule team stalled in one of these 
sloughs. The heavy wagon was down so that the box 
was in the mud and the four mules were wallowing in a 
death struggle to get out. Harness was cut and they were 
freed, all to no purpose. Their struggles had made the 
slough like a stiff pudding, which was apparently bottom- 
less ; the more they struggled the deeper they got. Finally 
a chain was hooked about the neck of one of the leaders 
and fastened to another wagon and the mule hauled out, 
but with a broken neck. The experiment was repeated 
in a modified way with the other leader, now over back 
in the mire, but with no better results. The others had 
ceased to struggle and were slowly sinking, and were mer- 
cifully killed and allowed to bury themselves in the mire, 
which they speedily did. It may be asked why more civil- 
ized methods were not employed to extricate these valu- 

165 



War from the Inside 

able animals. Why fence rails or timbers were not placed 
under them as is usual? The answer is, there was not a 
fence rail nor anything of that nature probably within ten 
miles. Everything of this kind had long ago been used 
for fire-wood for the soldiers' cooking. And as for tim- 
bers there probably was not a stick nearer than Aquia 
Creek, more than ten miles away. Again it may be won- 
dered why the chain was not passed around the mule's 
body rather than his neck. Simply because the former 
was impossible without running the risk of miring the 
driver in the slough, and he was not disposed to run any 
risk of that kind. Had this been practicable, it is doubtful 
if the result would have been any better, for without 
padding the chains would have killed or mangled the mule, 
and there were no means al hand for that purpose. The 
destruction of this class of property, always very severe 
under favorable circumstances in the army, was during 
this mud movement simply appalling. The loss of one or 
more mules meant an abandonment of the wagon and its 
contents to the weather in many instances, and the same 
was true where a team was mired. 

The rebels were evidently interested observers of this 
mud march, for their pickets taunted ours with such ques- 
tions as " How d'ye like Virginia mud?" " Why don't 
you 'uns come over?" " How are you, mud?" etc., and 
they put up rude sign-boards on which were scrawled in 
large letters, " Burnside stuck in the mud !" " Burnside's 
name is Mud!" etc. 

The " mud march" had evidently settled it that there 
would be no further attempt to move until better weather 
conditions prevailed, which could not reasonably be looked 

166 




MAJOR FREDERICK L. HITCHCOCK 
1320 P. V. 

A year later Colonel 25th U. S. C T. 



The Winter at Falmouth 

for before April, and so we settled down for a winter 
where we were, back of Falmouth. The several corps 
were spread out, occupying an area extending from within 
three miles of Fredericksburg, nearly down to the Po- 
tomac. Our corps, the Second, was located nearest to 
the latter city, and our picket lines covered its front to 
Falmouth and some miles up the river. Our division, the 
Third (French's), had the line from the railroad bridge 
at Fredericksburg to Falmouth, something over two miles. 
Being now a field-officer, my name was placed on the 
roster of picket field-officers of the day. My first detail 
on this duty came almost as soon as my commission. My 
duties had hitherto been confined almost exclusively to 
the staff or executive business of the regiment. Further 
than making the necessary details of officers and men for 
picket duty, I had never had anything to do with that 
branch of the service. I had, therefore, only a smattering 
knowledge of the theory of this duty. It may well be 
judged, therefore, that I felt very keenly this lack, when 
I received my order to report for duty as division field- 
officer of the day, the following morning. Here I was 
suddenly confronted with the responsibility of the com- 
mand of the picket forces covering the dividing line be- 
tween the two hostile armies. A demonstration of the 
enemy was to be looked for any moment, and it was most 
likely to occur on our front. I had hoped to have a few 
days to study up and by observing its practical work get 
some little idea of my new duties. But here was the 
detail, and it must be obeyed. It should be explained that 
the picket line consists of a cordon of sentinels surround- 
ing the army, usually from two to three miles from its 

167 



War from the Inside 

camp. Its purpose is to watch the enemy, and guard 
against being surprised by an attack. Except for this 
picket Hne, the main body of troops could never sleep with 
any degree of safety. To guard against attacks of the 
enemy would require it to remain perpetually under arms. 
Whereas with its picket lines properly posted it may with 
safety relax its vigilance, this duty being transferred to its 
picket forces. This picket service being a necessity of 
all armies is a recognized feature of civilized warfare. 
Hence, hostile armies remaining any length of time in 
position near each other usually make an agreement that 
pickets shall not fire upon each other. Such agreement 
remains in force until a movement of one or the other 
army commences. Notice of such a movement is, of 
course, never given. The other party finds out the fact 
as best it can. Frequently the withdrawal or conceal- 
ment of the picket line will be its first intimation. Ordi- 
narily, picket duty is not only of the very highest respon- 
sibility, but an exceedingly dangerous duty. Until agree- 
ments to cease picket-firing are made, every sentinel is 
a legitimate target for the sentinels or pickets of the 
enemy, hence extreme vigilance, care, and nerve are 
required in the performance of this duty. 

The picket line in the presence of the enemy is generally 
posted in three lines, — viz.. First, the line of sentries; 
second, the picket supports, about thirty yards in rear of 
the sentries, and third, the guard reserves, about three 
hundred yards farther in the rear, depending upon the 
topography of the country. Each body constitutes one- 
third of the entire force, i.e., one-third is constantly on 
duty as sentinels, one-third as picket supports, and one- 

i68 



The Winter at Falmouth 

third as grand reserves. The changes are made every 
two hours, usually, so that each sentry serves two 
hours on " post" and four hours off. The latter four 
hours are spent half on grand reserve and half as picket 
supports. The supports are divided into companies, and 
posted in concealed positions, near enough to the sentry 
line to be able to give immediate support in case of attack, 
while the grand reserves, likewise concealed, are held in 
readiness to come to the assistance of any part of the 
line. Ordinarily this part of the picket force is able to 
sleep during its two hours of reserve service. The sup- 
ports, however, while resting, must remain alert and vigi- 
lant. It being the duty of the picket-line to prevent a sur- 
prise, it must repel any sort of attack with all its power. 
In the first instance the sentinel must promptly challenge 
any party approaching. The usual formula is: "Halt! 
Who comes there?" The approaching party failing to 
obey the command to halt, it is his duty to fire at once, 
even though he be outnumbered a hundred to one, and it 
cost him his life. Many a faithful sentinel has lost his 
life in his fidelity to duty under such circumstances. For 
although the picket is there to prevent a surprise, the 
attacking party is equally bent on getting the advantage 
of a surprise, if possible, and many are the ruses adopted 
to capture sentinels before they can fire their guns. He 
must fire his gun, even though he be captured or run 
through with a bayonet the next instant. This gives the 
alarm, and the other sentries and picket supports open fire 
at once, and the reserves immediately join them, if neces- 
sary, to hold or impede the progress of the enemy. It is 
thus seen that in case of an attack the picket force finds 

169 



War from the Inside 

itself maintaining a fight possibly against the whole op- 
posing army, or whatever the attacking force may be. 
Fight it must, cost whatever it may, so that time may be 
gained to sound the " long roll" and assemble the army. 
Many of our picket fights were so saucy and stubborn that 
the attacks were nipped in the bud, the enemy believing 
the army was there opposing them. In the mean time, 
mounted orderlies would be despatched to army head- 
quarters with such information of the attack as the officer 
of the day was able to give. 

Having now given some idea of picket service, I re- 
turn to my own first experiences as field-officer of the 
day. I was fated to have several rather singular experi- 
ences on that first day. The first occurred in connection 
with my horse. I mounted and started for division head- 
quarters, about a half-mile away, in ample time to reach 
there a little before the appointed time — eight o'clock, 
but reaching the outer edge of our camp my horse balked, 
and in answer to my efiforts to move him began to kick, 
rear, and plunge. He tried to throw me, and did nearly 
everything except roll over. Every time I headed him 
forward, he would wheel around and start back for his 
stable. I coaxed him, then tried the spur, all to no pur- 
pose. I was losing valuable time, besides having a very 
uncomfortable kind of a fight on hand. I realized I must 
make him obey me or I could never handle him again. An 
orderly from General French came galloping over with 
the expected peremptory message. One minute's delay 
with him was almost a capital offence. I could only return 
word that I was doing my best to get there. The general 
and his staff then rode over to see my performance. He 

170 



The Winter at Falmouth 

reassured me with the remark, ''Stick to him and make 
him obey you, or kill him." Well, it took just about one 
hour to conquer him, at the end of which time I had 
ploughed up several acres of ground, my horse was in a 
white lather, and I was in the same condition. When he 
quit, he did so at once, and went on as cleverly as though 
nothing had happened. The cause of this freak I never 
understood, he never having done so before, and never 
did again. 

May I digress long enough to speak a little more of this 
remarkable horse. Dr. Holland says there is always hope 
for any man who has heart enough to love a good horse. 
Army life was well calculated to develop the sterling quali- 
ties of both man and beast. Hence, I suppose every man 
who had a good horse could safely regard him as " most 
remarkable." How many such have I heard cavalrymen 
talk about, descanting on the " remarkable" qualities of 
their half-human favorites, whilst the tears wet their 
cheeks. I had named this splendid animal " Don Fulano," 
after that superb horse in Winthrop's " John Brent," not 
because he was a magnificent black charger, etc. ; on the 
contrary, in many respects he was the opposite of the origi- 
nal Don Fulano. Raised upon an unromantic farm near 
Scranton, an unattractive yellow bay, rather too heavy 
limbed and too stockily built to be called handsome, yet 
powerful, courageous, intelligent (he could almost talk), 
high spirited, with a heavy, shaggy mane and forelock, 
through which gleamed a pair of keen, fierce eyes, he had 
many of the qualities which distinguished his noble proto- 
type. He had not the high honor to die carrying a slave to 
liberty, but when the final accounts come to be squared up 

171 



War from the Inside 

in the horses' heaven, it is possible that the credit of 
having passed unflinchingly through the battles of Fred- 
ericksburg and Chancellorsville, and of having safely car- 
ried a wounded soldier off each field may prove to be a 
little something in favor of my splendid " Don." As a 
saddler, he came to me practically unbroken. He was sold 
from the farm because he would jump all fences, yet under 
the saddle, when I took him, he would not jump the small- 
est obstacle. This is really as much of an art on the part 
of the rider as with the horse. An unskilled rider is liable 
to seriously injure both the horse and himself in jumping. 
If he is unsteady, the motion of the horse as he rises 
to make his leap is liable to pitch him over his head. On 
the other hand, if he clings back, a dead weight in his 
saddle, he is liable to throw the horse backward. I have 
seen both done. The secret of successful jumping is to 
give the horse his head as he rises, feel your knees against 
his sides firmly, rising with him as he rises and be again 
in your seat before his feet reach the ground. This 
helps him and saves both a killing jounce. I finally trained 
him so that as a jumper he was without a peer in our 
part of the army. I have had the men hold a pole fully 
a foot higher than my head, as I stood on the ground, and 
have jumped him back and forth over it as readily as cats 
and dogs are taught to jump over one's arm. And the 
men insisted that he cleared the pole at least a foot each 
jump. 

This jumping of horses was considered quite an accom- 
plishment in the army, it being often a necessity on the 
march in getting over obstacles. One day . I saw our 
general's son, a young West Pointer, attached to his 

172 



The Winter at Falmouth 

father's staff, trying to force his Kentucky thoroughbred 
to jump a creek that ran past division head-quarters. The 
creek was probably ten to twelve feet wide and, like all 
Virginia creeks, its banks seemed cut vertically through 
the soil and the water at the edges was about a foot deep. 
After repeated trials the best the young man's horse could 
do was to get his forefeet on the opposite bank. His 
hindfeet always landed in the water. Mr. West Pointer 
was way above noticing in any way a poor volunteer 
plebeian like myself mounted on an old plug like Don. 
But Don had taken in the situation as well as I, and when 
I said, " Come, Don, let's us try it," he just gathered 
himself and sailed over that creek like a bird, landing 
easily a couple of feet on the other side, and swung around 
for another try. The young fellow gathered up his thor- 
oughbred and with an oath of disgust retired. Don and 
I became great friends, and after our fight, above men- 
tioned, in all our practice jumping or on the march, or 
riding about, I never had occasion to use the spur, — 
indeed, I seldom wore one. A simple " Come, Don," and 
he was quick to obey my every wish. He was kind and 
tractable with others, but it was a singular fact that, as for 
jumping or any other favors, he would do nothing for 
anybody but me, not even for my man who took care of 
him. Others, including horse-trainers, repeatedly asked 
to try him, thinking they could improve his work, but 
he drew the line on all; not even a little jump would 
he make for any of them. I had been jumping him, one 
day, to the delight and admiration of the men. Among 
them was a horse-trainer of the Fourth New York, who 
asked the privilege of trying him. He mounted and 

173 



War from the Inside 

brought him cantering up to the pole as though he was 
going over all right, but instead of making the leap he 
suddenly whirled, almost dumping the trainer, to the in- 
finite amusement of the men; nor could he induce him 
to make the leap. I mounted again and he went over, 
back and forth, without the slightest hesitation. I brought 
him home from the war, and it was a great grief to me 
that I was unable to keep him as long as he lived. I 
secured him a good home, where he lived to a dignified 
old age. One of my household gods is a photograph of 
Don and myself, with a section of the camp of Hancock's 
division of the Second Corps for a background, taken at 
this time, whilst we lay back of Falmouth. 

My second adventure that first day on picket duty 
occurred shortly after I reached the head-quarters of the 
picket at the Lacey House, directly opposite the city 
of Fredericksburg. I had seen the new line posted and 
the old line relieved, when a grizzly bearded old gentle- 
man rode up and inquired for the " Officer of the day." 
His dress was exceedingly plain. He wore a much-bat- 
tered slouch hat down over his eyes, and on the shoulders 
of his blouse, scarcely discernible, was what had been the 
silver stars of a brigadier-general. I answered his inquiry 
by saluting, and then recognized General Alfred Sully, 
long famed as an Indian fighter before the war. He intro- 
duced himself as " Corps officer of the day" and my 
superior officer for this tour of picket duty. The peculiar 
thing about his presence was his treatment of me. He 
evidently saw that he had a greenhorn on hand, for the 
first question he fired at me was, " How many times have 
you served as picket officer of the day?" I candidly re- 

174 



The Winter at Falmouth 

plied that this was my first experience. " Your knowl- 
edge of the duties of officer of the day is somewhat 
limited ?" I admitted the fact. " That is all right," said 
he with a pleasant smile. " You are just the man I want. 
You shall remain with me all day, and I will teach you 
all there is about it." I shall never forget that day's 
experience with this splendid old officer. I rode with 
him over the whole corps line in the morning, and after 
that he made his head-quarters at the Lacey House with 
me. Our division front, said he, is where an attack is 
most to be looked for, and then he went over it carefully 
with me, pointing out the most probable points of attack 
and how they should be met; what to do at this point 
and that, and so on, in a most intelligent and entertaining 
manner gave me the practical idea of a picket defence, 
out of his long and ample experience as a regular army 
officer. It was just what I needed and was of the greatest 
value to me. It was practical experience under a superb 
instructor. If all the regular army officers I came in 
contact with had been as kind and considerate as this 
superb Indian fighter, I should have been equally grateful. 
Unfortunately, this was not the case. My experience in 
this respect may have been exceptional, but the instance 
above narrated is the one solitary case in which my duties 
brought me in contact with regular army officers that I 
did not receive a rebuff, frequently most brutal and in- 
sulting. Doubtless the lack of knowledge of army cus- 
toms and routine on the part of us volunteer officers was 
calculated to try their patience, for they occupied all the 
higher executive staff positions, and routine business of 
all kinds had to pass their scrutiny. 

175 



War from the Inside 

But what were they given West Point education and 
training at the pubHc expense for if not to impart it to 
those who should be called to fill volunteer positions in 
times of the country's need? And how should a volun- 
teer, called into the service of his country without a par- 
ticle of military education, be expected to understand the 
interminable routine of army red tape? I will dismiss 
this digression with a single instance of my experience in 
seeking information from one of the younger West Point- 
ers, It occurred while I was still adjutant and shortly 
before my promotion. Some special detailed report was 
called for. There were so many of these wanted, with 
so many minute and intricate details, that I cannot re- 
member what this particular one was, but they were 
enough almost to drive a man to drink. This one, I 
remember, utterly stumped me, and I rode over to Captain 
Mason, assistant adjutant-general of our brigade, a thor- 
oughly competent officer, for information. He looked at 
it a moment, then said : " It beats me ; but go down to 

corps head-nuarters and you will find Lieutenant , 

a regular army officer, whose business it is to give just 
such information as you require." I rode there at once 

and inquired for Lieutenant , as directed. The 

reply was, "Here he is. What in h — 1 do you want?" 
Not specially reassured by this inquiry, I handed him 
the paper and made known my wishes for information. 
He literally threw it back at me with the reply, " Go to 
h — 1 and find out." I replied that from his manner of 
speech I appeared to be pretty near there now. I went 
back to Captain Mason and recounted my experience, to 
his intense disgust, but that was all that ever came of it. 

176 



The Winter at Falmouth 

We volunteers learned to avoid a regular officer, espe- 
cially of the young West Point type, as we would a 
pestilence. 

Returning now to my picket duties of that day, a third 
incident occurred in the afternoon. The captain of the 
picket came into our office at the Lacey House with the 
information that there was a hail from the opposite bank 
of the river with a flag of truce — a small white flag. We 
all rushed out, and General Sully directed the captain to 
take a corporal's guard — a corporal and four men — from 
his reserve, and go down to the water's edge under a like 
flag and inquire what was wanted. This formality, he 
said, was necessary to properly recognize their flag of 
truce, and to guard against a possible fake or bit of 
treachery. The reply from the other side was that a 
young woman in Fredericksburg was exceedingly de- 
sirous of reaching her home some distance within the 
Union lines, and would the Union commander receive a 
communication upon the subject. General Sully replied 
that he would receive their communication and forward 
it to head-quarters, whereupon an orderly was sent over 
in a boat with the communication. He was unarmed, as 
were those who rowed him over. The letter was de- 
spatched to army head-quarters, whilst the orderly and his 
boatmen were detained at the landing under guard of our 
detail. They sat down and in an entirely easy and friendly 
way chatted w4th our guard. One would not have 
believed that these men would shed each other's blood 
instantly the little white flag was lowered. Yet such was 
the fact. A half-hour brought a reply to the communica- 
tion. We, of course, saw neither their letter nor the 
12 177 



War from the Inside 

reply, but my lady was immediately brought over and 
escorted by a mounted guard to army head-quarters, an 
ambulance being utilized for the purpose. She was really 
a very pretty young woman, and evidently a thorough 
lady, though a spirit of hauteur made it apparent she was 
a Southerner through and through. She maintained a 
perfect composure during the formality of her reception 
into our lines, for the officer from the rebel lines who 
escorted her required a receipt from the officer who had 
been sent down from head-quarters to receive her; and 
the appearance of a pretty woman in our lines was so 
unusual an event that Uncle Sam's boys may have been 
pardoned if they were all anxious to get a square view of 
the charming vision. This receipt had to be made in 
duplicate, one for each army, both officers, as well as the 
young woman, attesting it with their signatures. General 
Sully more than half suspected she was a rebel spy. If 
she was, they wisely chose a beauty for the work. 



ITS 



CHAPTER XIV 



THE WINTER AT FALMOUTH CONTINUED 

During the remainder of the winter at Falmouth, I was 
on as field-officer of the day about every fifth day, so that 
I was much of the time at the Lacey House, and on 
the picket-line described in the foregoing chapter. The 
scenes here enacted constituted my chief experience at 
this time. The Lacey House was famous during the war 
as being the head-quarters of either the picket lines 
between the two armies or of commanding officers of 
portions of both so frequently that it deserves more than 
a passing notice. It was a large old-time brick mansion, 
beautifully situated on the bank of the Rappahannock, 
just opposite Fredericksburg, and was, at the outbreak of 
the war, the private residence of Colonel Lacey, who was 
at the time I write a colonel in the rebel army. The house 
was very large; its rooms almost palatial in size, had 
been finished in richly carved hardwood panels and wain- 
scoting, mostly polished mahogany. They were now 
denuded of nearly all such elegant wood-work. The 
latter, with much of the carved furniture, had been appro- 
priated for firewood. Pretty expensive fuel? Yes, but 
not nearly so expensive as the discomfort of staying there 
without a fire, with the temperature just above the 
freezing-point, and your feet and body wet through from 
the rain and slush of the storm outside, in which you were 

179 



War from the Inside 

doing picket duty. The only other fuel obtainable was a 
few soggy green logs; whether these had been cut from 
the old shade trees surrounding its ample grounds or not 
I do not know. I more than suspect they had, but the 
only way they could be made to burn in the old-fashioned 
open fireplaces was to assist the flames with an occasional 
piece of dry wood, the supply of which, as long as it 
lasted, was from the panels, wainscoting, and furniture 
of the house. Later on the interior doors, all of heavy, 
elegant hardwood and finished in keeping with the other 
appointments of the place, had to go. This may seem at 
this distance as vandalism pure and simple. But if the 
would-be critic will place himself in the shoes of the 
soldier doing picket duty that winter, with all its hard- 
ships, and then remember that Colonel Lacey, the owner 
of the place, was not only in active rebellion against the 
government we were fighting to maintain, but was a 
colonel commanding a rebel regiment as a part of that 
great rebel army encamped not a rifle-shot away, which 
made it necessary for us to do this picket duty, he may 
reach the same conclusion as did our men, that it was not 
worth while to freeze ourselves in order to preserve this 
rebel's property. The large and ample grounds had been 
laid out with all the artistic care a landscape gardener 
could bestow upon them. Rare plants, shrubs, and trees 
from all over the world had been transplanted here in 
great variety. They were now feeling the bitter blight 
of war. Army wagons and artillery had made sad havoc 
of the beautiful grounds, and such of the rare trees and 
shrubbery as interfered with a good vision of the opera- 
tions of the rebels in and around Fredericksburg had 

180 



The Winter at Falmouth 

been ruthlessly removed, and this included the larger part 
of them. 

The Christian Commission had its head-quarters in one 
wing of the house during this winter. It was presided 
over by Mrs. John Harris, of Philadelphia, a most benevo- 
lent and amiable elderly lady. She was assisted by two 
or three young women, among whom was a daughter of 
Justice Grier, of the United States Supreme Court. These 
ladies were engaged in distributing supplies of various 
kinds, furnished by this association, to the sick and 
wounded soldiers in the various hospitals. They had an 
ambulance at their disposal, and one or two orderlies 
detailed to assist them. Their work was most gracious 
and helpful, and they were entitled to the greatest credit 
for their hard and self-sacrificing labors. The red flag of 
the hospital floated over them, and such protection as it 
afforded they had ; but it may be well understood that this 
location between two hostile armies, with active hostilities 
likely to be resumed any moment, and in the midst of a 
picket force keenly on the alert night and day, was not 
likely to be selected as a sanitarium for cases of nervous 
prostration. The men on picket had reason to remember 
Mrs. Harris, for those located at the Lacey House daily 
partook of her bounty in the way of hot coffee, and fre- 
quently a dish of good hot soup; and the officers stationed 
there, usually three or four, were regularly invited to her 
table for all meals. These invitations were sure to be 
accepted, for they afforded an opportunity for a partially 
civilized meal. Her meals were always preceded by a 
" grace" said by herself, while breakfast was followed by 
a worship service, at which a chapter from the Bible was 

i8i 



War from the Inside 

read and prayer offered by her. These prayers I shall 
never forget — their sweet fervency, in which the soldiers 
came in for a large share of her earnest requests. This 
large-hearted, motherly little woman made a host of 
friends among the boys in blue that winter. But her 
motherly kindness was occasionally taken advantage of 
by some of those sons of Belial. One of them told this 
story of his former tour of duty : The weather was beastly 
uncomfortable, from rain and snow making a slush and 
mud, through which they had tramped until thoroughly 
soaked. They concluded they must have some hot whis- 
key punch. Mother Harris, they knew, had all the neces- 
sary ingredients, but how to get them was the question. 
One of them feigned a sudden attack of colic, and was 
all doubled up on the floor, groaning piteously. Mother 
Harris was told of it. Of course, she rushed in to render 
assistance. In reply to her inquiries, the rascal could 
think of but one thing that would help him, and that was 
whiskey. A bottle was instantly produced, and a dose 
administered which gave partial relief; and now if he 
only had some hot water he was sure it would relieve him. 
A pitcher of steaming hot water was immediately sent in. 
Then it was found that the strong liquor nauseated him, 
and one of the other scamps suggested that perhaps a 
lemon would relieve that, and a nice lemon was instantly 
produced. They had plenty of sugar themselves, and so 
from good Mother Harris's benevolent provision for the 
colic these rascals deliberately brewed a pitcher full of 
excellent hot whiskey punch. They had to invent a num- 
ber of additional lies to keep her out of the room, but 
they were equal to it. She sent her orderlies in, one after 

182 



The Winter at Falmouth 

the other, to inquire how the patient was progressing, 
and the boys secured a proper message back by letting 
them in for a swig. I hope the good old lady never dis- 
covered the fraud. I am sure she would not have believed 
anybody who might have undertaken to enlighten her, 
for her confidence in her " boys in blue" was so 
unbounded. 

Almost every tour of picket duty revealed some new 
incident. Our pickets were now posted in full view of 
those of the enemy, and the river was so narrow that con- 
versation between the pickets could be carried on without 
difficulty. Peremptory orders were issued forbidding our 
pickets from replying, or in any manner communicating 
with them, but it required the greatest care and vigilance 
on the part of all the officers of the picket to enforce this 
order. One of their sentries would hail one of ours with 
some friendly remark, and it was difficult to suppress the 
desire to reply. If a reply was not forthcoming, a nagging 
ejaculation, calculated to provoke, would follow, such as, 
"What's the matter, Yank, are ye deaf?" "Maybe ye 
are afeared o' those d — d officers." " We 'uns don't give 
a d — for our officers," and so volley after volley would 
follow, whilst poor Yank had to continue silently walking 
his beat. Sometimes the " Johnny" would wind up with 
a blast of oaths at his silent auditor. Frequently our men 
would reply if they thought no officer was near to hear; 
they seemed to feel that it was only decent to be cour- 
teous to them. Strange as it may seem, there was a strong 
disposition to fraternize whenever opportunity offered on 
the part of the men of both sides. This was manifested 
daily on this picket-line, not only in talk across the river, 

183 



War from the Inside 

but in communication by means of miniature boats. Our 
men were generally short of tobacco, and the Johnnies 
had an abundance of this article of the very best quality ; 
on the other hand, our men were " long" on coffee, of 
which commodity they were " short." So " Johnny" 
would fix up a trade. " Say, Yank, if I send you over 
a boat-load of * backy,' will ye send her back filled with 
coffee?" If he got an affirmative reply, which he often 
did, he would place his little boat in the stream with its 
rudder so fastened that the current would shoot it across 
a hundred yards or so further down. Yank would watch 
his opportunity, get the boat, take out its precious cargo 
of tobacco, reload it with coffee, reverse the rudder, and 
send it back to " Johnny," who was watching for it further 
down the stream. Newspapers soon were called for by 
" Johnny," and became a regular part of the cargo of 
these boats, for the rebels were wild to get our papers. 
The exchange of coffee and tobacco was a comparatively 
harmless matter and would probably have been winked 
at, but the sending of our Northern papers into their line, 
containing news of every movement of our forces, was 
a thing that must be prohibited. A large part of the 
special instructions of all picket officers related to the 
suppression of this traffic. Scarcely a day passed that we 
did not confiscate one or more of these boats. The 
tobacco our men were allowed to take, but the boat and 
all rebel newspapers had to be sent to army head-quarters. 
Some of these miniature boats were marvels of beauty, 
and showed mechanical skill in construction of the highest 
order. Others were rude " dugouts." They were gen- 
erally about thirty inches long, six to ten inches wide, 

184 



The Winter at Falmouth 

and about six inches deep. They were therefore capable 
of holding quite a quantity. It was a traffic very difficult 
to suppress, for our men wanted the tobacco and were 
unwilling to take that without sending back the proper 
quid pro quo. I doubt if it was ever altogether stopped 
that winter. The desire for tobacco on the part of our 
men was so great that they would break over, and some 
of the subordinate officers participated in it. These ex- 
changes generally took place in the very early dawn, when 
the officer of the day and the officers of the picket were 
not supposed to be around. The officer of the day was 
required to make the " rounds" of his picket-line once 
after midnight, and then if everything was all right he 
could rest, his officers of the picket being responsible to 
him for their respective sections of the line. What is 
known in army regulations as the " grand rounds," a 
ceremonial visiting of the line by the officer of the day, 
accompanied by a sergeant and detail, was omitted on 
the picket-line as too noisy and ostentatious. In its place 
the officer of the day went over his line as quietly as 
possible, assuring himself that each man was in his proper 
place and was alert and doing his duty. 

The sleepy time was from two o'clock a.m. until day- 
light, and this was the time I found it necessary to be on 
the line. It took from two to four hours to get over the 
entire line and visit every sentry. The line, as I have 
stated heretofore, extended from the railroad bridge at 
Fredericksburg to the village of Falmouth, a distance of 
two and a half to three miles. In the daytime I could 
ride over it comfortably, but in the night I had to take it 
on foot. When these were dark as ink, and rainy, and 

185 



War from the Inside 

the ground was slushy and muddy, as it usually was at 
that time, it was not a very agreeable duty. However, 
my duty was so much lighter than that of the men (who, 
though they were only two hours on post at a time, 
were out in the storm all the while), that I could not 
complain. The fidelity of our men to duty under these 
trying circumstances was most remarkable. Twice only 
that winter did I find a man sleeping on post. In both of 
these cases the delinquent was scarcely more than a boy, 
who I really believed told the truth when they said they 
sat down because unable to stand up any longer, and, of 
course, instantly fell asleep. I had them relieved and 
sent back to camp, and did not report their offence. 

A disagreeable duty I had to perform occurred one 
morning just at break of day. I had just returned from 
my trip over the line and was about entering the Lacey 
House, when I noticed a man running down towards the 
water's edge on the other side of the river. On these 
night tours of duty I wore a large cavalry overcoat with 
a long cape, which thoroughly concealed my rank and 
sword. I stepped out to the top of the bank to see what 
this man was doing, and he hailed me with : " Hello, 
Yank. I am going to send ye over a nice boat, with 
tobacco and newspapers. Look out and get her, and 
send her back with coffee and newspapers, and don't let 
any of your d — d officers get hold of it. If they catch 
ye they'll raise h — 1 with you, and swipe the whole busi- 
ness." I did not say a word, but quietly walked down to 
where I saw the boat would touch the shore and waited 
for it. In the mean time he kept up a running fire of 
admonitions like the above, chiefly directed to the need 

186 



The Winter at Falmouth 

of watching against the vigilance of our d — d officers. 
I picked up the boat, took it up the bank, and then threw 
my coat open, disclosing my sword and my sash as officer 
of the day. Oh ! the profanity and billingsgate that fol- 
lowed beggars description. I thought I had heard swear- 
ing before, but never anything to touch this fellow, and 
I really could not blame him very much. He had simply 
hailed the wrong man. The man he thought he was 
hailing, seeing my presence, kept out of the way. The 
boat was a little beauty, one of the handsomest I ever 
saw. It contained five or six pounds of the best Virginia 
plug tobacco and several newspapers from Richmond. I 
would have been glad to have kept the boat as a souvenir, 
but had to despatch it to head-quarters with all its contents 
at once. Of course I never saw it again. 

The " Johnnies" were not without their fun, as well as 
our boys. Several times I was saluted by their pickets 
as officer of the day. Army regulations require the sentry 
nearest the picket reserve, on seeing the officer of the day 
approach, to call out, " Turn out the guard, officer of the 
day." Thereupon the officer of the picket parades his 
reserves, which presents arms and is then inspected by 
the officer of the day. The red sash worn crosswise over 
the shoulder is the insignia of the officer of the day. 
Several times that winter, as I was riding along our line, 
a rebel sentry yelled, " Turn out the guard, officer of the 
day," and a sergeant paraded his guard, faced towards me 
across the river, and presented arms. Of course, I lifted 
my cap in acknowledgment of the compliment, even 
though it was a bit of deviltry on their part. This indi- 
cated a grave want of discipline on the part of their troops. 

187 



War from the Inside 

I am sure such an act would not have been thought of by 
our men. 

General Burnside was relieved from command of the 
army on the 26th of January, 1863, and was succeeded 
by Major-General Joseph Hooker. " Fighting Joe," as 
he was familiarly called, was justly popular with the army, 
nevertheless there was general regret at the retirement 
of Burnside, notwithstanding his ill success. That there 
was more than the " fates" against him was felt by many, 
and whether under existing conditions " Fighting Joe" 
or any one else was likely to achieve any better success 
was a serious question. However, all felt that the new 
commander had lots of fight in him, and the old Army 
of the Potomac was never known to " go back" on such 
a man. His advent as commander was signalized by a 
modest order announcing the fact, and matters moved 
on without a ripple upon the surface. Routine work, 
drills, and picket duty occupied all our time. Some of 
our men were required to go on picket duty every other 
day, so many were off duty from sickness and other 
causes. Twenty-four hours on picket duty, with only 
twenty-four hours off between, was certainly very severe 
duty, yet the men did it without a murmur. When it is 
understood that this duty required being that whole time 
out in the most trying weather, usually either rain, sleet, 
slush, or mud, and constantly awake and alert against 
a possible attack, one can form an idea of the strain upon 
physical endurance it involved. 

The chief event preceding the Chancellorsville move- 
ment was the grand review of the army by President Lin- 
coln and staff. The exact date of this review I do not 

188 



The Winter at Falmouth 

remember, but it occurred a short time before the move- 
ment upon Chancellorsville. Owing to the absence of 
Colonel Albright and the illness of Lieutenant-Colonel 
Shreve, the command of the regiment devolved upon me, 
and I had a funny experience getting ready for it. As a 
sort of preliminary drill, I concluded I v^ould put the 
regiment through a practice review on our drill grounds. 
To do this properly, I had to imagine the presence of a 
reviewing officer standing before our line at the proper 
distance of thirty to forty yards. The ceremony involved 
opening the ranks, which brought the officers to the front 
of the line, the presenting arms, and dipping the colors, 
which the reviewing officer, usually a general, acknowl- 
edged by lifting his hat and gracefully bowing. I had 
reached the point in my practice drill where the " present 
arms" had been executed, and the colors lowered, and 
had turned to the front myself to complete the ceremony 
by presenting sword to my imaginary general, when lo! 
there rose up in front of me, in the proper position, a real 
reviewing officer in the shape of one of the worst looking 
army " bums" I ever saw. He assumed the position and 
dignified carriage of a major-general, lifted his dirty old 
" cabbage-leaf" cap, and bowed up and down the line with 
the grace and air of a Wellington, and then he promptly 
skedaddled. The " boys" caught the situation instantly 
and were bursting with laughter. Of course I didn't 
notice the performance, but the effort not to notice it 
almost used me up. This will illustrate how the army 
" bummer" never let an opportunity slip for a practical 
joke, cost what it might. This fellow was a specimen of 
this genus that was ubiquitous in the army. Every regi- 

189 



War from the Inside 

ment had one or more. They were always dirty and 
lousy, a sort of tramp, but always on hand at the wrong 
time and in the wrong place. A little indifferent sort of 
service could be occasionally worked out of them, but 
they generally skulked whenever there was business on 
hand, and then they were so fertile of excuses that some- 
how they escaped the penalty and turned up again when 
the " business" was over. Their one specialty was for- 
aging. They were born foragers. What they could not 
steal was not to be had, and this probably accounts in a 
measure for their being endured. Their normal occupa- 
tion was foraging and, incidentally, Sancho Panza like, 
looking for adventure. They knew more of our move- 
ments, and also of those of the enemy, than the command- 
ing general of either. One of the most typical of this 
class that I knew was a young fellow I had known very, 
well before the war. He was a shining light in society, 
occupying a high and responsible business position. His 
one fault was his good-fellowship and disposition to be 
convivial when off duty. He enlisted among the first, 
when the war broke out in 1861, and I did not see him 
again until one day one of this genus " bummer" strayed 
into our camp. He stuck his head into my tent and 
wanted to know how " Fred. Hitchcock was." I had to 
take a long second look to dig out from this bunch of 
rags and filth my one-time Beau Brummel acquaintance 
at home. His eyes were bleared, and told all too surely 
the cause of the transformation. His brag was that he 
had skipped every fight since he enlisted. " It's lots more 
fun," he said, " to climb a tree well in the rear and see 
the show. It's perfectly safe, you know, and then you 

190 , 



The Winter at Falmouth 

don't get yourself killed and planted. What is the use," 
he argued, " of getting killed and have a fine monument 
erected over you, when you can't see it nor make any use 
of it after it is done? Let the other fellows do that if 
they want to. I've no use for monuments." Poor fellow, 
his cynical ideas were his ruin. Better a thousand times 
had he been " planted" at the front, manfully doing his 
duty, than to save a worthless life and return with the 
record of a poltroon, despised by himself and everybody 
else. 

This review by President Lincoln and the new com- 
mander-in-chief. General Hooker, was, from a military, 
spectacular point of view, the chief event of our army 
experience. It included the whole of the great Army of 
the Potomac, now numbering upward of one hundred 
and thirty thousand men, probably its greatest numerical 
strength of the whole war. Deducting picket details, 
there were present on this review, it is safe to say, from 
ninety thousand to one hundred thousand men. It was 
a remarkable event historically, because so far as I can 
learn it was the only time this great army was ever 
paraded in line so that it could be seen all together. In 
this respect it was the most magnificent military pageant 
ever witnessed on this continent, far exceeding in its 
impressive grandeur what has passed into history as the 
" great review," which preceded the final " muster out" 
at the close of the war in the city of Washington. At the 
latter not more than ten thousand men could have been 
seen at one time, probably not nearly so many, for the eye 
could take in only the column which filled Pennsylvania 
Avenue from the Capitol to the Treasury Building. 

191 



War from the Inside 

Whereas, upon our review the army was first drawn up 
in what is known as three Hnes of " masses," and one 
glance of the eye could take in the whole army. Think 
of it ! One hundred thousand men in one sweep of vision ! 
If the word " Selah" in the Psalm means " stop ! think ! 
consider !" it would be particularly appropriate here. 

A word now about the formation in " lines of masses." 
Each regiment was formed in column of divisions. To 
those unfamiliar with military terms, I must explain that 
this very common formation with large bodies of troops 
consists in putting two companies together as a division 
under the command of the senior officer, thus making 
of a regiment of ten companies a column of five divisions, 
each two-company front. This was known as " massing" 
the troops. When so placed in line they were called a 
fine of " masses;" when marching, a column of " masses." 
It will be seen that the actual frontage of each regiment 
so formed was the width of two companies only, the other 
eight companies being formed in like manner in their 
rear. Now imagine four regiments so formed and placed 
side by side, fronting on the same line and separated from 
each other by say fifty feet, and you have a brigade line 
of masses. The actual frontage of a brigade so formed 
would be considerably less than that of a single regiment 
on dress parade. Now take three such brigades, sepa- 
rated from each other by say fifty feet, and you have a 
division line of masses. Three divisions made up an 
army corps. The army was formed in three lines of 
masses, of two corps each, on the large open plain opposite 
Fredericksburg, to the south and east of where the rail- 
road crossed the river. Each of these lines of masses 

192 



The Winter at Falmouth 

contained from seventy to eighty regiments of infantry, 
besides the artillery, which was paraded on the several 
lines at different intervals. I do not remember seeing 
any cavalry, and my impression is that this branch of the 
service was not represented. Some idea may be formed 
of the magnificence of this spectacle when I state that 
each of these lines of masses was more than a mile in 
length, and the depth of the three lines from front to rear, 
including the spaces between, was not less than four hun- 
dred yards, or about one-fifth of a mile. Each of the 
regiments displayed its two stands of silk colors, one the 
blue flag representing the State from which it came, the 
other the national colors. There were here and there a 
brace of these flags, very conspicuous in their brilliant 
newness, indicating a fresh accession to the army, but 
most of them were tattered and torn by shot and shell, 
whilst a closer look revealed the less conspicuous but 
more deadly slits and punctures of the minie-balls. 

Now place yourself on the right of this army paraded 
for review and look down the long lines. Try to count 
the standards as the favoring wind lifts their sacred folds 
and caressingly shows you their battle scars. You will 
need to look very closely, lest those miniature penants, far 
away, whose staffs appear no larger than parlor matches 
protruding above lines of men, whose forms in the dis- 
tance have long since merged into a mere bluish gray line, 
escape your eye. Your numbering will crowd the five 
hundred mark ere you finish, and you should remember 
that each of these units represented a thousand men when 
in the vigor and enthusiasm of patriotic manhood they 
bravely marched to the front. Only a fifth of them left? 
13 193 



War from the Inside 

you say. And the others ? Ah ! the battle, the hospital, 
the prison-pen, the h-11 of war, must be the answer. 

How can words describe the scene? This is that mag- 
nificent old battered Army of the Potomac. Look upon 
it; you shall never behold its like again. There have 
been and may yet be many armies greater in numbers, 
and possibly, in all the paraphernalia of war, more showy. 
There can never be another Army of the Potomac, with 
such a history. As I gazed up and down those massive 
lines of living men, felt that I was one of them, and saw 
those battle-scarred flags kissed by the loving breeze, my 
blood tingled to my very finger-tips, my hair seemed 
almost to raise straight up, and I said a thousand Con- 
federacies can't whip us. And here I think I grasped the 
main purpose of this review. It was not simply to give 
the President a sight of his " strong right arm," as he 
fondly called the Army of the Potomac, nor General 
Hooker, its new commander, an opportunity to see his 
men and them a chance to see their new chief, — though 
both of these were included, — but it was to give the army 
a square look at its mighty self, see how large and how 
strong it really was, that every man might thereby get 
the same enthusiasm and inspiration that I did, and know 
that it simply could not be beaten. The enemy, it is not 
strange to say, were intensely interested spectators of this 
whole scene, for the review was held in full view of the 
whole of their army. No place could have been chosen 
that would better have accommodated their enjoyment of 
the picture, if such it was, than that open plain, exactly in 
their front. And we could see them swarming over 
Marye's Heights and the lines to the south of it, intently 

194 



The Winter at Falmouth 

gazing upon us. A scene more resplendent with military 
pageantry and the soul-stirring accessories of war they 
will never see again. But did it stir their blood? Yes; 
but with bitterness only, for they must have seen that the 
task before them of successfully resisting the onslaughts 
of this army was impossible. Here was disclosed, un- 
doubtedly, another purpose of this grand review, viz., to 
let the enemy see with their own eyes how powerful the 
army was with which they had to contend. 

A remarkable feature of this review was the marvellous 
celerity of its formation. The various corps and sub- 
divisions of the army were started on the march for the 
reviewing ground so as to reach it at about the same time. 
It should be remembered that most of them were en- 
camped from four to eight miles away. Aides-de-camp 
with markers by the score were already in position on the 
plain when the troops arrived, so that there was almost 
no delay in getting into position. As our column de- 
bouched upon the field, there seemed an inextricable mass 
of marching columns as far as the eye could see. Could 
order ever be gotten out of it ? Yet, presto ! the right 
of the line fell into position, a series of blue blocks, and 
then on down to the far left, block after block, came upon 
the line with unerring order and precision, as though it 
were a long curling whiplash straightening itself out to 
the tension of a giant hand. And so with each of the 
other two lines. All were formed simultaneously. Here 
was not only perfection of military evolution, but the 
poetry of rhythmic movement. The three lines were all 
formed within twenty minutes, ready for the reviewing 
officers. 

195 



War from the Inside 

Almost immediately the blare of the trumpets an- 
nounced the approach of the latter, and the tall form of 
the President was seen, accompanied by a large retinue, 
galloping down the first line. Our division was formed, 
as I recollect, in the first line, about three hundred yards 
from the right. The President was mounted on a large, 
handsome horse, and as he drew near I saw that imme- 
diately on his right rode his son, Robert Lincoln, then a 
bright-looking lad of fourteen to fifteen years, and little 
" Tad" Lincoln, the idol of his father, was on his left. 
The latter could not have been more than seven or eight 
years old. He was mounted on a large horse, and his little 
feet seemed to stick almost straight out from the saddle. 
He was round and pudgy, and his jolly little body bobbed 
up and down like a ball under the stiff canter of his horse. 
I wondered how he maintained his seat, but he was really 
a better horseman than his father, for just before reaching 
our regiment there was a little summer stream ravine, 
probably a couple of yards wide, that had to be jumped. 
The horses took it all right, but the President landed 
on the other side with a terrific jounce, being almost un- 
seated. The boys went over flying, little " Tad" in high 
glee, like a monkey on a mustang. 

Of course, a mighty cheer greeted the President as he 
galloped down the long line. There was something inde- 
scribably weird about that huzzah from the throats of 
these thousands of men, first full, sonorous, and thrilling, 
and then as it rolled down that attenuated line gradually 
fading into a minor strain until it was lost in the dis- 
tance, only to reappear as the cavalcade returned in front 
of the second line, first the faintest note of a violin, then 

196 



The Winter at Falmouth 

rapidly swelling into the full volume, to again die away 
and for the third time reappear and die away as the third 
line was reviewed. The President was followed by a 
large staff dressed in full uniform, which contrasted 
strongly with his own severely plain black. He wore a 
high silk hat and a plain frock coat. His face wore that 
peculiar sombre expression we see in all his photo- 
graphs, but it lighted up into a half-smile as he occasion- 
ally lifted his hat in acknowledgment of the cheering of 
the men. 

About one hundred yards in rear of the President's 
staff came the new commanding general, " Fighting Joe." 
He was dressed in the full uniform of a major-general, 
and was accompanied by his chief of staff, Seth Williams 
— he who had held this position under every commander 
of the Army of the Potomac thus far — and a large and 
brilliant staff. There must have been fully twenty officers 
of various ranks, from his chief of staff, a general, down 
through all grades to a lieutenant, in this corps of staff 
officers. It was the first time I had seen General Hooker 
to know him. His personal appearance did not belie his 
reputation. He had a singularly strong, handsome face, 
sat his superb horse like a king, broad-shouldered and 
elegantly proportioned in form, with a large, fine head, 
well covered with rather long hair, now as white as the 
driven snow and flowing in the wind as he galloped down 
the line, chapeau in hand; he was a striking and pic- 
turesque figure. It was evident the head of the army had 
lost nothing in personal appearance by its recent change. 
The same cheering marked the appearance of " Fighting 
Joe" which had greeted the President, as he and staff 

197 



War from the Inside 

galloped down and up and down through the three long 
lines. 

Both reviewing cavalcades moved at a brisk gallop, and 
occupied only about twenty minutes covering the three 
miles of lines; and then the President and staff took 
position, for the marching review, some distance in front 
and about midway of the lines. Instantly the scene was 
transformed. The first line wheeled into column by 
brigades successively and, headed by General Hooker and 
staff, moved rapidly forward. There were but few bands, 
and the drum corps had been consolidated into division 
corps. On passing the President, General Hooker took 
position by his side and remained throughout the re- 
mainder of the ceremony. The troops marched in col- 
umns of masses, in the same formation they had stood in 
line; that is, in column of two companies front and only 
six yards between divisions. This made a very compact 
mass of troops, quite unusual in reviews, but was neces- 
sary in order to avoid the great length of time that in the 
usual formation would have been required for the passing 
of this vast body of men. Yet in this close formation the 
balance of the day was nearly consumed in marching past 
the President. 

It must have been a trying ordeal to him, as he had to 
lift his hat as each stand of colors successively dipped in 
passing. Immediately on passing the President, the sev- 
eral brigades were wheeled out of the column and ordered 
to quarters. I remember that we returned to our camp, 
over a mile distant, dismissed the men, and then several 
of us officers rode back to see the continuation of the 
pageant. When we got back the second line was only 

198 



The Winter at Falmouth 

well on its way, which meant that only about half the 
army had passed in review. We could see from fifteen to 
twenty thousand men in column — that is to say, about 
one army corps — at a time. The quick, vigorous step, 
in rhythmical cadence to the music, the fife and drum, the 
massive swing, as though every man was actually a part 
of every other man; the glistening of bayonets like a 
long ribbon of polished steel, interspersed with the stirring 
effects of those historic flags, in countless numbers, 
made a picture impressive beyond the power of descrip- 
tion. A picture of the ages. How glad I am to have 
looked upon it. I could not remain to see the end. When 
finally I was compelled to leave the third line was march- 
ing. I can still see that soul-thrilling column, that massive 
swing, those flaunting colors, that sheen of burnished 
steel ! Majestic ! Incomparable ! ! Glorious ! ! ! 



199 



CHAPTER XV 



THE BATTLE OF CHANCELLORSVILLE 

An interesting item in the experience that winter at 
Falmouth was the celebration of St. Patrick's day by the 
Irish brigade and their multitude of friends. They were 
encamped about a mile to the south of our brigade upon 
a beautiful, broad, open plain between the surrounding 
hills, which gave them a superb parade and drill-ground. 
Upon this they had laid out a mile race track in excellent 
shape, and they had provided almost every conceivable 
sort of amusement that was possible to army life — 
matches in running, jumping, boxing, climbing the 
greased pole, sack races, etc. But the usual pig per- 
formance had to be omitted owing to the enforced 
absence of the pig. The appearance of a live porker 
would have stampeded the army in a wild chase for 
fresh meat. 

The chief events were horse races. The army abounded 
in excellent thoroughbreds, private property of officers, 
and all were anxious to show the mettle of their steeds. 
Everybody was invited to be present and take such part 
as he pleased in any of the events. It was a royal gala 
day to the army; from morning until night there were 
excitement and side-splitting amusement. Nor was there, 

200 




l^^-;i 









The Battle of Chancellorsville 

throughout the whole day, a thing, not even a small fight, 
that I heard of, to mar the wholesome fun, until towards 
night our old enemy, John Barleycorn, managed to get in 
some of his work. 

The chief event of the day and the wind-up was a 
hurdle and ditch race, open to officers only. Hurdles and 
ditches alternated the course at a distance of two hundred 
yards, except at the finish, where a hurdle and ditch were 
together, the ditch behind the hurdle. Such a race was 
a hare-brained performance in the highest degree; but 
so was army life at its best, and this was not out of keep- 
ing with its surroundings. Excitement was what was 
wanted, and this was well calculated to produce it. 

The hurdles were four and five feet high and did not 
prove serious obstacles to the jumpers, but the ditches, 
four and five feet wide and filled with water, proved a 
hete noir to most of the racers. Some twenty-five, all 
young staflF-officers, started, but few got beyond the first 
ditch. Many horses that took the hurdle all right posi- 
tively refused the ditch. Several officers were dumped 
at the first hurdle, and two were thrown squarely over 
their horses' heads into the first ditch, and were nice- 
looking specimens as they crawled out of that bath of 
muddy water. They were unhurt, however, and re- 
mounted and tried it again, with better success. 

The crowning incident of the day occurred at the finish 
of this race at the combination hurdle and ditch. Out of 
the number who started, only three had compassed safely 
all the hurdles and ditches and come to the final leap. 
The horses were about a length apart each. The first 



War from the Inside 

took the hurdle in good shape, but failed to reach the 
further bank of the ditch and fell over sideways into it, 
carrying down his rider. Whilst they were struggling to 
get out, the second man practically repeated the perform- 
ance and fell on the first pair, and the rear man, now 
unable to check his horse, spurred him over, only to fall 
on the others. It was a fearful sight for a moment, and it 
seemed certain that the officers were killed or suffocated 
in that water, now thick with mud. But a hundred hands 
were instantly to the rescue, and in less time than it takes 
to tell it all were gotten out and, strange to say, the horses 
were unhurt and only one officer seriously injured, a 
broken leg only to the bad for the escapade. But neither 
officers nor horses were particularly handsome as they 
emerged from that ditch. The incident can be set down 
as a terrific finale to this first and last army celebration 
of St. Patrick's day. 

The tedium of routine duty occupied our time without 
specially exciting incident until pleasanter weather 
towards the middle of April brought rumors of impend- 
ing army movements again. About April 20 we heard 
the cavalry under Stoneman were on the move, and this 
was confirmed the next day, when I saw that general with 
quite a body of cavalry marching leisurely north. The 
horses appeared in excellent condition after a winter of 
partial rest. General Stoneman was a large man, with 
short gray whiskers and gray hair and a strikingly 
bronzed red face. This story was told of him anent this 
movement, that Hooker had told him to do something 
with his horses; to cross the river at one of the fords 
above and shake out his cavalry, that it was " about time 



The Battle of Chancellors ville 

the army saw a dead cavalryman." Stoneman had repHed, 
asking for materials to build bridges with, and " Fighting 
Joe" had impatiently replied that he wouldn't " give a 
d — n for a cavalryman who couldn't make a bridge 
without materials," meaning who could not cross a river 
without a bridge. 

Soon orders came to supply ourselves with extra ammu- 
nition, and be prepared to move with six days' rations 
at a moment's notice. This settled it that " business" 
was about to commence again in earnest. What the con- 
templated movement was we had not the remotest idea, 
though we knew, of course, it was to be another whack 
in some form at the Johnnies on the other side of the 
river. We set about disposing of all surplus baggage 
which had accumulated for winter quarters, and putting 
everything in trim for field living once more. We could 
now see columns of troops in the distance marching north. 
Was the new movement, then, to be in that direction? 
This was the topic upon all lips. The desire to know 
something of what was being done with us was naturally 
very strong. Where were we going? What were we 
going to do? Yet a desire that in the nature of things 
could not be satisfied. One can have no conception of 
the feeling of going day after day blindly ahead, not 
knowing whither or why; knowing only that sooner or 
later you are going to fetch up against a fight, and cal- 
culating from your surroundings the probabilities of 
when. 

We felt one satisfaction, however, that this was to be 
our last campaign as a regiment. Most of our men had 
enlisted in the July previous for nine months, and their 

203 



War from the Inside 

time was now practically out; but, to their credit be it 
said, they would not raise this question during an active 
movement. There were troops who threw down their 
arms on the eve of battle and refused to go into action 
because their time was out. Such action has been severely 
criticised, and I think uncharitably. After a man has 
honorably and patriotically served his full time and is 
entitled to his discharge, it would seem pretty hard to 
force him to go into battle and be killed or wounded. 
Nevertheless, as a matter of fact, nearly this whole cam- 
paign was overtime for most of our regiment, yet the 
question was not raised. 

On April 28 our corps broke camp and joined the col- 
umn northward. The winter's rest had brought some 
accessions to our ranks from the sick and wounded, 
though the severe picket duty and the excessively damp 
weather had given us a large sick list. We had, to start 
with, upward of three hundred and seventy-five men, to 
which was added some twenty-five or thirty from the 
sick list, who came up to us on the march. It is a curious 
fact that many men left sick in camp, unable to march 
when the regiment leaves, will get themselves together 
after the former has been gone a few hours and pull out 
to overtake it. I saw men crying like children because 
the surgeon had forbidden them going with the regi- 
ment. The loneliness and homesickness, or whatever you 
please to call it, after the regiment has gone are too much 
for them. They simply cannot endure it, and so they 
strike out and follow. They will start by easy marches, 
and they generally improve in health from the moment 
they start. Courage and nerve are both summoned for 

204 



The Battle of Chancellorsville 

the effort, and the result is that at the end of the second 
or third day they rejoin the regiment and report for duty. 
This does not mean that they were not really sick, but 
that will power and exercise have beaten the disease, 
I have heard many a sick man say he would rather die 
than be left behind. 

We marched about six miles the first day, much of our 
route being through a wooded country, some of it so wet 
and spongy that corduroy roads had to be built for the 
wagons and artillery. The army can, as a rule, move as 
rapidly as it can move its artillery and supply trains, and 
no faster. Of course, for short distances and special expe- 
ditions, where circumstances require, both cavalry and 
infantry move very rapidly, ignoring the wagon trains 
and artillery; but on a general campaign this is impos- 
sible, and so where the ground is bad these must be 
helped along. In a wooded country the usual method is 
by corduroy road. Extra details are made to assist the 
pioneer corps, who cut down young saplings three to six 
inches in diameter and about six feet in length and lay 
them side by side on the ground, which is roughly levelled 
to receive them. They do not make a handsome road to 
speed over, but they bear up the artillery and army 
schooners, and that is all that is wanted of them. 

The second day we crossed the Rappahannock at 
United States ford on a pontoon bridge. There had 
been a sharp skirmish here when the first troops crossed 
a couple of days before, and a battery of artillery was still 
in position guarding the crossing. We now began to 
experience once more the unmistakable symptoms of ap- 
proaching battle, — sharp spurts of cannonading at irregu- 

205 



War from the Inside 

lar intervals some distance to the south and west of us, 
with the hurry of marching troops, ambulances and 
stretcher corps towards the front; more or less of army 
debris scattered about, and the nervous bustle everywhere 
apparent. We reached the famous Chancellorsville House 
shortly after midnight. This was an old-time hostelry, 
situated on what was called the Culpeper plank-road. 
It stood with two or three smaller houses in a cleared 
square space containing some twenty or thirty acres, in 
the midst of the densest forest of trees and undergrowth 
I ever saw. We had marched all day on plank and cor- 
duroy roads, through this wild tanglewood forest, most 
of the time in a drizzling rain, and we had been much 
delayed by the artillery trains, and it was after midnight 
when we reached our destination. The distance marched 
must have been twelve or more miles, and our men became 
greatly fatigued towards the last. 

It was my first experience with the regiment on the 
march in the field in my new position as major. As 
adjutant my place had been with the colonel at the head 
of the column. Now my duties required me to march 
in the rear and keep up the stragglers. After nightfall it 
became intensely dark, and at each rest the men would 
drop down just where they were and would be instantly 
sound asleep. Whether they dropped down into mud or 
not made little difference to many of them, for they were 
soaking wet and were so exhausted that they did not care. 
My troubles began when the " forward" was sounded, to 
arouse these seeming logs and get them on their feet once 
more and started. All who were practically exhausted 
had drifted to the rear and were on my hands. We had 

206 



The Battle of Chancellors ville 

a provost guard in the rear, whose duty it was to bring 
up every man and permit no straggHng, but they were 
in almost as bad a plight as the rest of the regiment. To 
arouse these sleeping men I had occasionally to resort 
to a smart blow with the flat of my sword and follow it 
up with the most energetic orders and entreaties. An 
appeal to their pluck and nerve was generally sufficient, 
and they would summon new courage and push manfully 
on. My own condition was scarcely better than that of 
the men. I rode that night considerable distances between 
our halts for rest, sitting bolt upright in my saddle fast 
asleep. I had all day alternated with some of the men in 
marching whilst they rode, and was not only thoroughly 
tired, but wet through. The march was much more try- 
ing to us because of our unseasoned condition owing to 
the long winter's exemption from this exercise. Fur- 
thermore, we had been marching towards the firing, and 
were under the nervous strain always incident to opera- 
tions in the presence of the enemy. Nothing will quicker 
exhaust men than the nervous tension occasioned by the 
continued firing which indicates the imminence of a battle. 
At daylight we were aroused and under arms again. 
We found we were at the head-quarters of the army. The 
Chancellorsville House, which had been vacated by its 
occupants, was used for office purposes, and much of the 
open space around it was occupied by the tents of General 
Hooker and staff and hospital tents. Of the latter there 
were three or four pitched so as to connect with each 
other, and over them was flying the yellow flag of the 
corps hospital. The First and Third Divisions of our 
Second Corps were massed in this Chancellorsville square, 

207 



War from the Inside 

beside Pettit's battery. Our brigade now consisted of 
the Fourth New York, First Delaware, and our regiment. 
The first named was sent off on some guard duty, which 
left Colonel Albright, of our regiment, the senior officer 
in command of the brigade. The ominous rattle of mus- 
ketry not far away became momentarily more pro- 
nounced, and ambulances and stretcher-carriers were pass- 
ing back and forth to the hospitals, carrying wounded 
men. The dead body of a regular army captain was soon 
brought back from the front, where Sykes's division of 
regulars was sharply engaged. I do not know the name 
of this captain, but he was a fine-looking young officer. 
He had been killed by a minie-ball squarely through his 
forehead. 

We were marching out the plank-road as they brought 
this body in. Passing out of the clearing, the woods and 
undergrowth each side the road was so dense that we 
could not see into it a half-dozen steps. We had gone 
possibly a quarter of a mile when we were overtaken by 
a staff-officer, who in whispers ordered us to turn back, 
regardless of orders from the front, and get back to the 
Chancellorsville House as rapidly as possible, and to do 
so absolutely noiselessly; that a heavy force of rebels 
were in the woods on both sides of us, and we were in 
great danger of being cut to pieces and captured. We 
obeyed, and he rapidly worked his way to the front of 
the brigade and succeeded very quickly in getting us all 
safely out. We formed line near the Chancellorsville 
House and were resting on our arms when I noticed 
another brigade going down that same road from which 
we had just been so hurriedly gotten out. The circum- 

208 



The Battle of Chancellorsville 

stance was so strange that I inquired what brigade it was, 
and learned that it was Colonel (afterwards Governor) 
James A. Beaver's brigade of Hancock's division of our 
corps. They had been gone but a short time when the 
rebels opened upon them from both sides of the road, and 
they were very roughly handled. Colonel Beaver was 
soon brought back, supposed mortally wounded. I saw 
him as he was brought to the rear. It was said he was 
shot through the body. Afterwards, whilst he was gov- 
ernor, I mentioned the circumstance to him, and asked 
how he succeeded in fighting off the last enemy at that 
time. He said he then fully believed his wound was mor- 
tal. The bullet had struck him nearly midway of his body 
and appeared to have passed through and out of his back, 
and he was bleeding freely. He was brought to the hos- 
pital, where the corps surgeon — his own family physician 
at home — found him, and with an expression of counte- 
nance indicating the gravest fear proceeded to examine his 
wound. Suddenly, with a sigh of relief, he exclaimed: 
" Colonel, you are all right ; the ball has struck a rib and 
followed it around and out." It was one of the hundreds 
of remarkable freaks performed by those ugly minie-balls 
during the war. Why that brigade should have been 
allowed to march into that ambuscade, from which we 
had so narrowly escaped, I could not understand. It was 
one of the early faux' pas of that unfortunate comedy, 
rather tragedy of errors, — battle. 

In view of the events of the next two days, it will be 

interesting to recall the somewhat windy order published 

to the army by General Hooker on the morning of the 

I St of May, the date of the first day's battle, on which the 

14 209 



War from the Inside 

events narrated in the last chapter occurred. This is the 

order : 

Head-quarters Army of the Potomac, 
Camp near Falmouth, Va., April 30, 1863. 
It is with heartfelt satisfaction the commanding general announces 
to the army that the operations of the last three days have deter- 
mined that our enemy must either ingloriously fly or come out from 
behind his defences and give us battle on our own ground, when 
certain destruction awaits him. 

By command of Major-General Hooker. 

S. Williams, 

Asst. Adjt.-Gen'l. 

My recollection recalls a phrase in this order reading 
something like this : *' We have got the enemy where God 
Almighty can't save him, and he must either ingloriously," 
etc. I have been surprised not to find it in the records, 
and my memory is not alone in this respect, for a lieuten- 
ant-colonel of Portland, Me., in his account of this battle 
alludes to Hooker's blasphemous order. 

The purpose of this order was to encourage the men 
and inspire them with the enthusiasm of forthcoming vic- 
tory. But when we consider that the portion of the army 
operating around Chancellorsville was at that very 
moment apparently as thoroughly caged up in a wilderness 
of almost impenetrable undergrowth, which made it im- 
possible to move troops, and into which one could not see 
a dozen feet, as though they were actually behind iron 
bars, it will be seen how little ground there was for 
encouragement. I can think of no better comparison of 
the situation than to liken it to a fleet of ships enveloped 
in a dense fog endeavoring to operate against another 
having the advantage of the open. 

210 



The Battle of Chancellorsville 

It will be remembered that when this movement com- 
menced the Army of the Potomac numbered from one 
hundred and twenty thousand to one hundred and thirty 
thousand men, about double the opposing rebel force. 
Hooker divided this army, taking with him four corps, 
numbering probably seventy thousand men, to operate 
from Chancellorsville towards Fredericksburg, and 
leaving three corps, about fifty thousand men, under 
Sedgwick, to move upon the latter place from below. The 
purpose was to get Lee's army between these two forces 
and crush him. All historians of this battle agree that 
up to a certain point Hooker's strategy was most ad- 
mirable. General Pleasanton, who commanded our cav- 
alry forces in that action, says that up to a certain point 
the movement on Chancellorsville was one of the most 
brilliant in the annals of war. He put that point at the 
close of Thursday, April 30. He had made a full recon- 
noissance of all that country and had informed General 
Hooker of the nature of the ground, that for a depth of 
from four to five miles it was all unbroken tanglewood 
of the densest undergrowth, in which it was impossible to 
manoeuvre an army or to know anything of the move- 
ments of the enemy; that beyond this wilderness the 
country was open and well adapted to military movements, 
and he had taken occasion to urge upon him the impor- 
tance of moving forward at once, so as to meet the enemy 
in open ground, but his information and advice, he tells 
us, fell upon leaden ears. 

Lee had, up to this time, no information of the move- 
ment upon Chancellorsville, having been wholly occupied 
with Sedgwick at Fredericksburg. The former was 

211 



War from the Inside 

therefore a complete surprise to him. The " golden 
moment," according to Pleasanton, to move forward an' 
carry the battle out into the open, where the army could 
have been handled and would have had a chance, was on 
that day, as instantly the movement was disclosed, the 
enemy, being familiar with every foot of the country, 
would detach a sufficient force to operate in the open, and 
along the edge of the wilderness could keep us practically 
bottled up there and beat us in detail ; and that is precisely 
what seems to have been done. The inexplicable question 
is, Why did fighting " Joe Hooker," with seventy thou- 
sand as good troops as ever fired a gun, sit down in the 
middle of that tanglewood forest and allow Lee to make 
a monkey of him while Sedgwick was doing such mag- 
nificent work below ? 

Two distinguished participants in all these events hold- 
ing high commands, namely, General Alfred Pleasanton, 
quoted above, and General Doubleday, commanding First 
Division, First Army Corps, have written articles upon 
this battle, agreeing on the feasibility and brilliancy of the 
movement, but by inference and things unsaid have prac- 
tically left the same question suspended in the air. It is 
possible the correct answer should not now be given. 

To return to our own doings, on that Friday, ist of 
May, our division was drawn up in line of battle in front 
of the Chancellorsville House, and we were permitted to 
rest on our arms. This meant that any moment we might 
be expected to move forward. The battle was now on in 
earnest. Heavy firing was heard some miles below us, 
which was Sedgwick's work at Fredericksburg. Nearer 
by there was cannonading and more or less severe mus- 

212 



The Battle of Chancellorsville 

ketry firing. Ambulances and stretcher-carriers were con- 
stantly coming back from the front with wounded soldiers, 
taking them to the field hospital, which was just in our 
rear, and we could see the growing piles of amputated 
legs and arms which were thrown outside with as little 
care as if they were so many pieces of wood. We were 
evidently waiting for something, nobody seemed to know 
what. Everything appeared to be *' at heads." Our corps 
and division commanders, Couch, Hancock, and French, 
with their staffs, were in close proximity to the troops, 
and all seemed to be in a condition of nervous uncertainty. 
What might be progressing in those black woods in front, 
was the question. A nearer volley of musketry would 
start everybody up, and we would stand arms in hand, as 
if expecting the unseen enemy to burst through the woods 
upon us. Then the firing would slacken and we would 
drop down again for a time. 

In the mean time shells were screeching over us con- 
tinually, and an occasional bullet would whiz uncom- 
fortably near. The nervous strain under such conditions 
may be imagined. This state of affairs continued all 
through Friday night and most of Saturday. Of course, 
sleep was out of the question for any of our officers. On 
Thursday and Friday nights the men got snatches of 
sleep, lying on their arms, between the times all were 
aroused against some fresh alarm. 

On Saturday some beef cattle were driven up and 
slaughtered in the open square in front of our lines, and 
the details were progressing with the work of preparing 
the meat for issue when the storm of disaster of Saturday 
afternoon burst upon us and their work was rudely inter- 

213 



War from the Inside 

rupted. We had anxious premonitions of this impending 
storm for some hours. Captain Pettit, who commanded 
the famous battery of that name, which was posted imme- 
diately in our rear, had spent much of his time in the fore- 
noon of Saturday high up in a tall tree which stood just 
in front of the Chancellorsville House and close to our 
line, with his field glass reconnoitring. Several times he 
had come down with information that heavy bodies of the 
enemy were massing for a blow upon our front and where 
he believed they would strike. This information, we were 
told, he imparted to Hooker's chief of staff, and begged 
permission to open at long range with his rifled guns, but 
no attention was paid to him. I saw him up the tree and 
heard some of his ejaculating, which indicated that he 
was almost wild with apprehension of what was coming. 
Once on coming down he remarked to General Hancock 
that we would " catch h — 1 in less than an hour," The 
latter seemed to be thoroughly alive to the situation and 
exceedingly anxious, as were Couch and French, to do 
something to prepare for what was coming, yet nothing 
more was done until suddenly the firing, which had been 
growing in volume and intensity and gradually drawing 
nearer, developed in a storm of musketry of terrific fury 
immediately in our right front, apparently not more than 
three hundred yards away. 

We could not see a thing. What there might be be- 
tween us and it, or whether it was the onslaught of the 
enemy or the firing of our troops, we knew not. But we 
had not long to wait. Soon stragglers, few in numbers, 
began to appear, emerging from the woods into our clear- 
ing, and then more of them, these running, and then 

214 



The Battle of Chancellorsville 

almost at once an avalanche of panic-stricken, flying men 
without arms, without knapsacks, many bareheaded, 
swearing, cursing, a wild, frenzied mob tearing to the 
rear. Instantly they began to appear, General Couch, 
commanding our corps, took in the situation and de- 
ployed two divisions to catch and hold the fugitives. 
Part of the Third Corps was also deployed on our left. 
We were ordered to charge bayonets and permit no man 
to pass through our ranks. We soon had a seething, 
howling mob of Dutchmen twenty to thirty feet in depth 
in front of our line, holding them back on the points of 
our bayonets, and still they came. Every officer of our 
division, with drawn sword and pistol, was required to 
use all possible endeavor to hold them, and threatening to 
shoot the first man who refused to stand as ordered. Gen- 
eral French and staff were galloping up and down our 
division line assisting in this work. 

In the mean time another line of battle was rapidly 
thrown in between these fugitives and the woods to stay 
the expected advance of the enemy. This was the famous 
break of the Eleventh Corps, starting with Blenker's 
division and finally extending through the whole corps, 
some fifteen thousand men. It seemed as though the 
whole army was being stampeded. We soon had a vast 
throng of these fugitives dammed up in our front, a ter- 
rible menace to the integrity of our own line as well as 
of all in our rear. We were powerless to do anything 
should the enemy break through, and were in great danger 
of being ourselves swept away and disintegrated by this 
frantic mob. All this time the air was filled with shriek- 
ing shells from our own batteries as well as those of the 

215 



War from the Inside 

enemy, doing, however, little damage beyond adding to 
the terror of the situation. The noise was deafening. 
Pandemonium seemed to reign supreme in our front. Our 
line, as well as that of the Third Corps on our left, was 
holding firm as a rock. I noticed a general officer, I 
thought it was General Sickles, was very conspicuous in 
the vigor of his efforts to hold the line. A couple of fugi- 
tives had broken through his line and were rapidly going 
to the rear. I heard^him order them to halt and turn 
back. One of them turned and cast a look at him, but 
paid no further attention to his order. He repeated the 
order in stentorian tones, this time with his pistol levelled, 
but it was not obeyed, and he fired, dropping the first man 
dead in his tracks. He again ordered the other man to 
halt, and it was sullenly obeyed. These men seemed to 
be almost stupid, deaf to orders or entreaty in their frenzy. 
An incident in our own front will illustrate. I noticed 
some extra commotion near our colors and rushed to see 
the cause. I found an officer with drawn sword threaten- 
ing to run the color-sergeant through if he was not 
allowed to pass. He was a colonel and evidently a Ger- 
man. My orders to him to desist were answered with a 
curse, and I had to thrust my pistol into his face, with an 
energetic threat to blow his head off if he made one more 
move, before he seemed to come to his senses. I then 
appealed to him to see what an example he as an officer 
was setting, and demanded that he should get to work 
and help to stem the flight of his men rather than assist 
in their demoralization. To his credit be it said, he at 
once regained his better self, and thenceforth did splendid 
work up and down amongst these German fugitives, and 

216 



The Battle of Chancellors ville 

later on, when they were moved to the rear, he rendered 
very material assistance. I did not learn who he was, 
but he was a splendid-looking officer and spoke both Eng- 
lish and German fluently. 

One may ask why those men should have lost their 
heads so completely. To answer the question intelli- 
gently, one needs to put oneself into their place. The 
facts as we were told at the time were : That the 
Eleventh Corps, which contained two divisions of Ger- 
man troops, under Schurz and Blenker (I think Stein- 
wehr commanded the latter division in this action), was 
posted on the right of Hooker's line in the woods, some 
distance in front and to the right of the Chancellorsville 
House. That at the time Stonewall Jackson made his 
famous atttack, above referred to, he caught one of those 
divisions " napping" — off their guard. They had stacked 
their guns and knapsacks, and were back some twenty 
yards, making their evening coffee, when suddenly the 
rebel skirmishers burst through the brush upon them, 
followed immediately by the main line, and before they 
realized it were between these troops and their guns. 
Consternation reigned supreme in an instant and a 
helter-skelter flight followed. Jackson followed up this 
advantage with his usual impetuosity, and although the 
other divisions of the Eleventh made an effort to hold 
their ground, this big hole in the line was fatal to 
them and all were quickly swept away. Of course, 
the division and brigade commanders were responsible 
for that unpardonable carelessness. No valid excuse can 
be made for such criminal want of watchfulness, espe- 
cially for troops occupying a front line, and which had 

217 



War from the Inside 

heard, or should have heard, as we a half mile farther in 
the rear had, all the premonitions of the coming storm. 
But it was an incident showing the utter folly of the 
attempt to maintain a line of battle in the midst of a 
dense undergrowth, through which nothing could be seen. 
It is exceedingly doubtful whether they could have held 
their line against Jackson's onset under those conditions 
had they been on the alert, for he would have been on 
and over them almost before they could have seen him. 
To resist such an onset needs time to deliver a steady 
volley and then be ready with the bayonet. 

It was towards six o'clock in the evening when this 
flying mob struck our lines, and darkness had fallen 
before we were rid of them and something like order had 
been restored. In the mean time it certainly seemed as 
if everything was going to pieces. I got a little idea of 
what a panic-stricken army means. The fearful thing 
about it was, we knew it was terribly contagious, and 
that with all the uncertainties in that black wilderness 
from which this mob came and the pandemonium in prog- 
ress all about us, it might seize our own troops and we be 
swept away to certain destruction in spite of all our 
efforts. It is said death rides on horseback with a fleeing 
army. Nothing can be more horrible. Hence a panic 
must be stopped, cost what it may. Night undoubtedly 
came to our rescue with this one. 

One of the most heroic deeds I saw done to help stem 
the fleeing tide of men and restore courage was not the 
work of a battery, nor a charge of cavalry, but the charge 
of a band of music! The band of the Fourteenth Con- 
necticut went right out into that open space between our 

218 



The Battle of Chancellorsville 

new line and the rebels, with shot and shell crashing- all 
about them, and played " The Star-Spangled Banner," 
the " Red, White, and Blue," and " Yankee Doodle," and 
repeated them for fully twenty minutes. They never 
played better. Did that require nerve? It was undoubt- 
edly the first and only band concert ever given under 
such conditions. Never was American grit more finely 
illustrated. Its effect upon the men was magical. Im- 
agine the strains of our grand national hymn, " The Star- 
Spangled Banner," suddenly bursting upon your ears out 
of that horrible pandemonium of panic-born yells, min- 
gled with the roaring of musketry and the crashing of 
artillery. To what may it be likened ? The carol of birds 
in the midst of the blackest thunder-storm? No simile 
can be adequate. Its strains were clear and thrilling for 
a moment, then smothered by that fearful din, an instant 
later sounding bold and clear again, as if it would fear- 
lessly emphasize the refrain, " Our flag is still there." 



219 



CHAPTER XVI 



THE BATTLE OF CHANCELLORSVILLE — CONTINUED 

Recurring again to the incident of the band playing 
out there between the two hostile lines in the midst of that 
panic of the Eleventh Corps, it was a remarkable circum- 
stance that none of them were killed, I think one or 
two were slightly wounded by pieces of exploding shells, 
and one or two of their instruments carried away scars 
from that scene. The rebels did not follow up their ad- 
vantage, as we expected, probably owing to the effective 
work of our batteries, otherwise they would all have been 
either killed or captured. None of the enemy came into 
our clearing that I saw. We must have corralled upward 
of eight thousand of our demoralized men. Some had 
their arms, most of them had none, which confirmed the 
story of their surprise narrated in the last chapter. They 
were marched to the rear under guard, and thus the 
further spread of the panic was avoided. 

It was now dark and the firing ceased, but only for a 
few moments, for the two picket-lines were posted so 
close together, neither knowing exactly where the other 
was, that both were exceedingly nervous ; and the slight- 
est movement, the stepping of a picket, the scurry of a 
rabbit, would set the firing going again. First it would 
be the firing of a single musket, then the quick rattle of 
a half-dozen, then the whole line with the reserves, for all 

220 



The Battle of Chancellorsville 

were on the Hne together there; and then the batteries, 
of which there were now at least a half-dozen massed 
right around us, would open with terrific vigor, all firing 
into the darkness, whence the enemy was supposed to be 
coming. This continued at short intervals all night long. 

After the mob of fugitives had been disposed of, our 
division had formed in line of battle directly in front of 
the Chancellorsville House, supporting the provisional 
line which had been hurriedly thrown in to cover the 
break of the Eleventh Corps, and we were " resting (?) 
on our arms." At each of these alarms every man was 
instantly on his feet, with guns at a " ready." General 
French and staff were close to us, and General Couch 
and his staff only a few feet away. All were exceedingly 
nervous and keenly on the alert. It was a night of ter- 
rific experience long to be remembered. 

The nervous strain upon all was simply awful. We 
knew that the Eleventh Corps had been stampeded by 
the impetuous charge of Stonewall Jackson, and we felt 
sure he would seek to reap the fruits of the break he had 
made by an effort to pierce our centre, and this we would 
have to meet and repel when it came. We did not then 
know that in the general mix-up of that fateful afternoon 
that able and intrepid leader had himself fallen and was 
then dying. This fact, fortunate for us, undoubtedly 
accounts for the failure of the expected onset to mate- 
rialize. We could probably have held him, for we had 
two divisions of the Second Corps and part of the Third 
Corps in double lines, all comparatively fresh, and before 
midnight the First Corps was in position on our right. 
But the slaughter would have been horrible. 

221 



War from the Inside 

After midnight these outbursts became less frequent, 
and we officers lay down with the men and tried to sleep. 
I do not think any of our general officers or their staffs 
even sat down that whole night, so apprehensive were 
they of the descent of the rebels upon our position, I 
said in the last chapter that on Saturday morning some 
beef cattle were slaughtered near our line for issue to 
our division; that the work of distribution had not been 
completed before the panic came, and then these carcasses 
of beef were between ours and the rebel line on " debatable 
ground." This was too much for some of our men, and 
two or three crawled out to them during the night and 
helped themselves to such cuts as they could make from 
our side. One party next day told of being surprised by 
hearing cutting on the other side of the beef, and found, 
on investigating, that a " Johnny" was there, when the 
following colloquy took place : 

" Hello, Johnny, are ye there?" 

" Yes, Yank; too bad to let this ' fresh' spoil. I say, 
Yank, lend me your knife, mine's a poor one. We 'uns 
and you 'uns is all right here. Yank, I'll help you if 
you'll help me, and we'll get all we want." 

The knife was passed over, and these two foes helped 
each other in that friendly darkness. How much actual 
truth there was in this story I do not know, but I do 
know that there was considerable fresh beef among the 
men in the morning, and it was not at all unlikely that 
the Johnnies also profited by the presence of that " fresh" 
between the lines. Soldiers of either army would run 
almost any risk to get a bit of fresh beef. 

The next morning we were ordered to pile up our 

222 



The Battle of Chancellorsville 

knapsacks and make a breastwork of them for such pro- 
tection as they might afford, in anticipation of the still 
expected attack. We managed to make a cup of coffee 
and eat a hardtack without getting off our guard for an 
instant, and about ten o'clock the First Brigade, now 
Carroll's, and ours, consisting of two regiments only, the 
First Delaware and ours, under command of our Colonel 
Albright, were ordered forward into the woods to the 
right of the Chancellorsville House. This was the open- 
ing of the third day's battle. We moved forward in 
excellent line until we struck the edge of the woods. The 
moment the crackling of the brush under our feet apprised 
the enemy of our advance we received a heavy volley, 
which must have been very hurriedly delivered, for it 
passed over our heads, not a man being hit, I think. The 
morning was lowering and misty and the air very light, 
so that the smoke made by the rebel volley, not more 
than fifty yards away, hung like a chalk line and indicated 
their exact position. The sudden retirement of our lieu- 
tenant-colonel at this point placed the command of the 
regiment on me, and I shouted to the men to aim below 
that line of smoke and then gave the order, fire by bat- 
talion, and we emptied our guns as one man, reloaded, 
and receiving no reply to our volley, moved forward 
through the thick brush and undergrowth. We soon 
came upon the rebel line, and a dreadful sight it was. 
The first ofiicer I saw was a rebel captain, an Irishman. 
He ejaculated, " We're all killed ! We're all killed !" and 
offered to surrender. The commanding officer must have 
suffered the fate of his men. Most of them were either 
killed or wounded. The hundred or so living promptly 

223 



War from the Inside 

threw down their arms, and Colonel Albright sent them 
to the rear under guard. This Irish captain vouchsafed 
the remark sotto voce that he was glad to be captured, 
that he'd been trying to get out of the d — n Confederacy 
for a year. Our battalion volley had exactly reached its 
mark and had done fearful execution. There must have 
been more than two hundred lying there either dead or 
wounded, marking their line of battle. This was the 
only instance in my war experience where we delivered 
a volley as a battalion. The usual order of firing in line 
of battle is by " file," each man firing as rapidly as he 
can effectively, without regard to any other man. The 
volley they had delivered at us was a battalion volley, 
and it would have effectively disposed of our advance had 
it been well delivered. Fortunately for us, it was not, 
and their smoke-line gave us the opportunity to deliver 
a very effective counter-stroke. It had to be quickly done, 
we were so close together. There was no time to medi- 
tate. It was us or them. Instantly I resolved to give 
them all we could, aiming well under their line of smoke, 
and take our chances with the bayonet if necessary. The 
order was calmly given and the volley was coolly deliv- 
ered. I have never heard a better one. The value of 
coolness in delivering and the effectiveness of such a 
volley were clearly demonstrated in this instance. 

We again moved forward, working our way through 
the tangled undergrowth, and had gained probably five 
or six hundred yards when we encountered another line, 
and sharp firing began on both sides. We could see the 
enemy dodging behind trees and stumps not more than 
one hundred yards away. We also utilized the same 

224 



The Battle of Chancellorsville 

shelter, and therefore suffered comparatively little. Sud- 
denly I found bullets beginning to come from our left 
and rear as well as from our front. Two of these bul- 
lets had been aimed at me as I stood behind a small 
tree on our line. The first knowledge I had of them was 
from the splinters of bark in my face from the tree, first 
one and then the other in quick succession as the bullets 
struck, not more than three inches from my head. They 
were fairly good shots. I was thankful they were no 
better. But now I had to move a couple of companies to 
the left to meet this flank attack. It did not prove a 
serious matter, and the enemy was quickly driven back. 
The same thing was tried shortly after on our right flank, 
and was again disposed of the same way. They were 
probably groups of sharpshooters hunting for our officers. 
One of them, I happened to know, never went back, for I 
saw one of our sergeants kill him. I was at that moment 
standing by him, when he clapped his hand to his ear 
and exclaimed, " That was a ' hot one,' " as a bullet just 
ticked it. " There is the devil who did it. See him 
behind that bush?" and with that he aimed and fired. 
The fellow rolled over dead. 

We soon had the better of this fighting and our oppo- 
nents withdrew. We seemed now to be isolated. We 
must have been nearly a half mile from where we entered 
the woods. We could not see nor hear of any troops on 
our immediate right or left. Colonel Albright came back 
to consult as to what was best to be done now. The brush 
and undergrowth were exceedingly dense. What there 
might be on our right or left we could not know without 
sending skirmishers out. The colonel said his orders 
IS 225 



War from the Inside 

were to advance and engage the enemy. No orders had 
come to him since our advance commenced, two hours 
and more before. We had met and beaten two hues of 
the enemy. Should we continue the advance or retire 
and get further orders? My advice was to retire; that 
with our small force, not more than five hundred men, 
isolated in that dense wood, we were liable to be gobbled 
up. The colonel agreed with this view and ordered the 
line faced about and marched to the rear. I mention this 
consultation over the situation because here we were, 
two young men, who knew almost nothing about mili- 
tary matters beyond obeying orders, suddenly called upon 
to exercise judgment in a critical situation. Bravery sug- 
gested push ahead and fight. To retire savored of over- 
prudence. Nevertheless, it seemed to us we had no busi- 
ness remaining out there without connection with other 
troops on either right or left, and this decided the colonel 
to order the retreat. 

We moved back in line of battle in excellent order and 
quite leisurely, having no opposition and, so far as we 
knew, no troops following us. We came out into the 
clearing just where we had entered the woods two hours 
before. But here we met a scene that almost froze our 
blood. During our absence some half-dozen batteries, 
forty or more guns, had been massed here. Hurried 
earthworks had been thrown up, covering the knapsacks 
our brigade had left there when we advanced. These 
guns were not forty yards away and were just waiting 
the order to open on those woods right where we were. 
As we emerged from the brush, our colors, fortunately, 
were a little in advance, and showed through before the 

226 



The Battle of Chancellorsville 

line appeared. Their timely appearance, we were told, 
saved us from being literally blown to pieces by those 
batteries. A second later the fatal order would have been 
given and our brigade would have been wiped out of 
existence by our own guns ! 

As we came out of the woods an aide galloped down 
to us, his face perfectly livid, and in a voice portraying 
the greatest excitement shouted to Colonel Albright: 
" What in h — 1 and d-mnation are you doing here? Get 
out of here! Those woods are full of rebel troops, and 
we are just waiting to open on them." Albright replied 
very coolly, " Save your ammunition. There is not a 
rebel within a half mile, for we have just marched back 
that distance absolutely unmolested. Why haven't you 
sent us orders? We went in here two hours ago, and 
not an order have we received since." He replied, " We 
have sent a dozen officers in to you with orders, and they 
all reported that you had been captured." Albright an- 
swered, " They were a lot of cowards, for there hasn't 
been a minute since we advanced that an officer could not 
have come directly to us. There is something wrong 
about this. I will go and see General Hooker." And 
directing me to move the troops away from the front of 
those guns, he started for General Hooker's head-quar- 
ters, only a short distance away. As I was passing the 
right of that line of batteries a voice hailed me, and I 
turned, and there stood one of my old Scranton friends. 
Captain Frank P. Amsden, in command of his battery. 
Said he, as he gripped my hand, " Boy, you got out of 
those woods just in time. Our guns are double-shotted 
with grape and canister; the word ' fire' was just on my 

227 



War from the Inside 

lips when your colors appeared." I saw his gunners 
standing with their hands on the lanyards. After forty 
years my blood almost creeps as I recall that narrow 
escape. 

We now moved to the rear across the plank-road from 
the Chancellorsville House in the woods, where we sup- 
ported Hancock's line. Colonel Albright soon returned 
from his visit to Hooker's head-quarters. His account 
of that visit was most remarkable, and was substantially 
as follows : " I scratched on the flap of the Hooker head- 
quarters' tent and instantly an officer appeared and asked 
what was wanted. I said I must see General Hooker, 
that I had important information for him. He said, 
' You cannot see General Hooker ; I am chief of staff ; 
any information you have for the commanding general 
should be given to me.' I said, ' I must see General 
Hooker,' and with that pushed myself by him into the 
tent, and there lay General Hooker, apparently dead 
drunk. His face and position gave every indication of 
that condition, and I turned away sick and disgusted." 
It was subsequently stated that General Hooker was un- 
conscious at that time from the concussion of a shell. 
That he was standing on the porch of the Chancellors- 
ville House, leaning against one of its supports, when a 
shell struck it, rendering him unconscious. The incident 
narrated above occurred about one p.m. on Sunday, 
May 3. The army was practically without a commander 
from this time until after sundown of that day, when 
General Hooker reappeared and in a most conspicuous 
manner rode around between the lines of the two armies. 
If he was physically disabled, why was not the fact made 

228 



The Battle of Chancellorsville 

known at once to the next officer in rank, whose duty it 
would have been to have assumed command of the army, 
and if possible stem the tide of defeat now rapidly over- 
whelming us? A half-day of most precious time would 
have been saved. That this was not done I happen to 
know from the following circumstances. 

In our new position we were only about fifty yards 
behind General Hancock's line. The head-quarters at 
this time of General Couch, commanding our corps; of 
General French, commanding our division, and of Gen- 
eral Hancock were all at the right of our regiment, behind 
our line. These generals and their staffs were resting, 
as were our troops, and they were sitting about, only a 
few feet away from us. We therefore heard much of 
their conversation. Directly General Howard joined 
them. I well remember his remarks concerning the be- 
havior of his corps on the previous afternoon. His cha- 
grin was punctured with the advice of old French to 
shoot a few dozen of them for example's sake. Naturally, 
the chief subject of their conversation related to the 
present situation. It was perfectly clear they regarded 
it as very critical. We could hear heavy cannonading in 
the distance towards Fredericksburg. Several times 
Hancock broke out with a savage oath as he impatiently 
paced up and down, swinging his sword. " They are 
knocking Sedgwick to pieces. Why don't we go for- 
ward?" or a similar ejaculation, and then, "General 
Couch, why do you not assume command and order us 
forward? It is your duty." (The latter was next in 
rank to Hooker.) 

To which General Couch replied, " I cannot assume 

229 



War from the Inside 

command." French and Howard agreed with Hancock, 
but Couch remained imperturbable, saying, " When I am 
properly informed that General Hooker is disabled and 
not in command, I shall assume the duty which will de- 
volve upon me." And so hour after hour passed of 
inactivity at this most critical juncture. They said it 
was plain Lee was making simply a show of force in our 
front whilst he had detached a large part of his army and 
was driving Sedgwick before him down at Fredericks- 
burg. Now, why this period of inactivity whilst Sedg- 
wick was being punished ? Why this interregnum in the 
command? When Colonel Albright returned from his 
call at Hooker's tent, narrated above, he freely expressed 
his opinion that Hooker's condition was as stated above. 
His views were then generally believed by those about 
head-quarters, and this was understood as the reason why 
the next officer in rank was not officially notified of his 
chief's disability and the responsibility of the command 
placed upon him. Nothing was then said about the con- 
cussion of a shell. It is profoundly to be hoped that 
Colonel Albright's impression was wrong, and that the 
disability was produced, as alleged, by concussion of a 
shell. If so, there was a very grave dereliction of duty 
on the part of his chief of staff in not imparting the fact 
immediately to General Couch, the officer next in rank, 
and devolving the command upon him. 

In our new position on the afternoon of Sunday, the 
third day's battle, we were subjected to a continuous fire 
of skirmishers and sharpshooters, without the ability of 
replying. We laid up logs for a barricade and protected 
ourselves as well as we could. Several were wounded 

230 



The Battle of Chancellors ville 

during the afternoon, among them Captain Hall, of Com- 
pany I. His was a most singular wound. We were all 
lying prone upon the ground, when suddenly he spoke 
rather sharply and said he had got a clip on his knee. 
He said it was an insignificant flesh wound, but his leg 
was benumbed. He tried to step on it, but could not 
bear his weight on it, and very soon it became exceedingly 
painful, and his ankle swelled to double its natural size. 
He was taken back to one of the hospitals, where it was 
found a minie-ball had entered his leg above the knee and 
passed down between the bones to the ankle, where it 
was removed. This practically ended the service of one 
of the youngest of our captains, a brave and brilliant 
young officer. 

Towards night a cold, drizzling rain set in, which 
chilled us to our bones. We could not have any fires, not 
even to make our coffee, for fear of disclosing our posi- 
tion to the enemy. For four days now we had been con- 
tinuously under the terrible nervous strain incident to a 
battle and practically without any rest or sleep. During 
this time we had no cooked food, nothing but hardtack 
and raw pork and coffee but once. This condition began 
to tell upon us all. I had been under the weather when 
the movement began, and was ordered by our surgeon to 
remain behind, but I said no, not as long as I could get 
around. Now I found my strength had reached its limit, 
and I took that officer's advice, with the colonel's orders, 
and went back to the division field hospital to get under 
cover from the rain and get a night's sleep if possible. 

I found a half-dozen hospital tents standing together 
as one hospital, and all full to overflowing with sick and 

231 



War from the Inside 

wounded men. Our brigade surgeon, a personal friend, 
was in charge. He finally found a place for me just 
under the edge of one of the tents, where I could keep 
part of the rain off. He brought me a stiff dose of 
whiskey and quinine, the universal war remedy, and I 
drank it and lay down, and was asleep in less time than it 
takes me to write it. 

About midnight the surgeon came and aroused me with 
the information that the army was moving back across 
the river, and that all in the hospital who could march 
were ordered to make their way back as best they could ; 
that of the others the ambulances would carry all they 
could and the others would be left. This was astounding 
information. My first impulse was, of course, to return 
to my regiment, but the doctor negatived that emphati- 
cally by saying, " You are under my orders here, and 
my instructions are to send you all directly back to the 
ford and across the river; and then the army is already 
on the march, and you might as well attempt to find a 
needle in a haystack as undertake to find your regiment 
in these woods in this darkness." If his first reason had 
not been sufficient, the latter one was quite convincing. 
I realized at once the utter madness of any attempt to 
reach the regiment, at the same time that in this night 
tramp back over the river, some eight miles, I had a job 
that would tax my strength to the utmost. The doctor 
had found one of the men of our regiment who was sick, 
and bidding us help each other started us back over the 
old plank-road. 

How shall I describe the experiences of that night's 
tramp? The night was intensely dark and it was raining 

232 



The Battle of Chancellorsville 

hard. The plank-road was such only in name. What 
few remnants remained of the old planks were rotten and 
were a constant menace to our footing. I must have 
had more than a dozen falls during that march from 
those broken planks, until face, arms, and legs were a 
mass of bruises. We were told to push forward as rap- 
idly as we could to keep ahead of the great rabble of sick 
and wounded which was to follow immediately. This 
we tried to do, though the road was now crowded with 
the occupants of the other hospitals already on their way. 
These men were all either sick or wounded, and were 
making their way with the greatest difficulty, most of 
them in silence, but there was an occasional one whose 
tongue gave expression to every possible mishap in out- 
bursts of the most shocking profanity. There were 
enough of these to make the night hideous. 

Our road was a track just wide enough to admit a 
single wagon through the densest jungle of timber and 
undergrowth I ever saw. I cannot imagine the famed 
jungles of Africa more dense or impenetrable, and it 
seemed to be without end as we wearily plodded on hour 
after hour, now stepping into a hole and sprawling in 
the mud, again stumbling against a stolid neighbor and 
being in turn jostled by him, with an oath for being in 
his way. Many a poor fellow fell, too exhausted to rise, 
and we were too nearly dead to do more than mechani- 
cally note the fact. 

Towards morning a cj^uartette of men overtook us 
carrying a man on their shoulders. As they drew near us 
one of the forward pair stumbled and fell, and down 
came the body into the mud with a swash. If the body 

233 



War from the Inside 

was not dead, the fall killed it, for it neither moved nor 
uttered a sound. With a fearful objurgation they went 
on and left it, and we did not have life enough left in us 
to make any investigation. It was like the case of a 
man on the verge of drowning seeing others perishing 
without the ability to help. It was a serious question 
whether we could pull ourselves through or should be 
obliged to drop in our tracks, to be run over and crushed 
or trampled to death, as many a poor fellow was that 
night. We had not an ounce of strength, nor had any of 
the hundreds of others in our condition, to bestow on 
those who could not longer care for themselves. Here it 
was every man for himself. This night's experience was 
a horrible nightmare. 

It was long after daylight when we crawled out of 
those woods and reached United States ford. Here a 
pontoon bridge had been thrown over, and a double col- 
umn of troops and a battery of artillerv were crossing 
at the same time. We pushed ourselves into the throng, 
as to which there was no semblance of order, and were 
soon on the other side. On the top of the bluff, some 
one hundred feet above the river, on our side, we noticed 
a hospital tent, and we thought if we could reach that we 
might find shelter and rest, for it was still raining and 
we were drenched to the skin, and so cold that our faces 
were blue and our teeth chattered. A last effort landed 
us at this hospital. Alas for our hopes ! it was crowded 
like sardines in a box with others who in like condition 
had reached it before us. I stuck my head in the tent. 
One glance was enough. The surgeon in charge, in an- 
swer to our mute appeal, said, " God help you, boys; I 

234 



The Battle of Chancellorsville 

cannot. But here is a bottle of whiskey, take a good 
drink; it will do you good." We took a corking dose, 
nearly half the bottle, and lay down, spoon fashion, my 
comrade and I, by the side of that tent in the rain and 
slept for about an hour, until the stimulus of the liquor 
passed off and the cold began again to assert itself, when 
we had to start on again. I have never had any use for 
liquors in my life, and the use of them in any form as a 
beverage I consider as nothing else than harmful in the 
highest degree, yet I have always felt that this big dose 
of whiskey saved my life. Could we have had a good 
cup of hot coffee at that time it would possibly have been 
better, but we might as well have looked for lodgings in 
the Waldorf-Astoria as for coffee at that time and place. 
Imagine my feelings during all this night as I reflected 
that I had a good horse, overcoat, and gum blanket some- 
where, — yes, somewhere, back, or wherever my regiment 
might be, — and here I was soaking wet, chilled to the 
bones and almost dead from tramping. 

We got word at the Ford that the troops were to go 
back to their old camps, and there was nothing for us to 
do but to make our way back there as best we might. 
Soon after we started Colonel (afterwards Judge Dana, 
of Wilkes-Barre) Dana's regiment passed. The colonel 
hailed me and kindly inquired why I happened to be there 
by myself on foot, said I looked most wretched, and in- 
sisted on my taking another bracer from a little emergency 
stock he had preserved. I had been but a few months 
out of his law office, from which I had been admitted to 
the bar. His kindly attentions under these limited cir- 
cumstances were very cheering and helpful. We were 

235 



War from the Inside 

all day covering the eight or more miles back to camp. 
But early in the day the rain ceased, the sun came out, 
we got warmed up marching, and after some hours our 
clothes became sufficiently dry to be more comfortable, 
so that when we reached camp in the evening our condi- 
tion was much improved. This was due in part probably 
as much to the relief from the awful nervous strain of the 
battle and the conditions through which we had passed 
in that wilderness as to rest and the changed weather. 
When we reached this side of the river that nervous strain 
ceased. We were sure that fighting was over, at least for 
the present. We found the regiment had been in camp 
some hours ahead of us. Our corps was probably on the 
march when we left the hospital, and had preceded us all 
the way back. I found my horse had brought back one 
of our wounded men, and this was some compensation 
for my own loss. 

We had been gone on this campaign from the 29th of 
April until the 5th of May, and such a week ! How much 
that was horrible had been crowded into it. For variety 
of experiences of the many dreadful sides of war, that 
week far exceeded any other like period of our service. 
The fighting was boy's play compared with either Antie- 
tam or Fredericksburg, yet for ninety-six hours contin- 
uously we were under the terrible nervous strain of battle. 
Our losses in this action were comparatively light, 2 men 
killed, 2 officers wounded (one of whom died a few days 
later), and 39 men wounded, and one man missing; total 
loss, 44, or about fifteen per cent, of the number we took 
into action. This missing man I met at the recent reunion 
of our regiment. He was picked up from our skirmish 

236 



The Battle of Chancellorsville 

line by that flanking party of rebels on the third clay's 
fight described in my last. The circumstance will show 
how close the rebels were upon us before we discovered 
them. Our skirmishers could not have been more than 
a dozen yards in advance of our main line, yet the thicket 
was so dense that the enemy was on him before he fairly 
realized it. He said he was placed with a lot of other 
prisoners and marched to the rear some distance, under 
guard, when a fine-looking Confederate officer rode up 
to them. He was told it was General Lee. He said he 
wore long, bushy whiskers and addressed them with a 
cheery, — 

'* Good-morning, boys. What did you come down 
here for? a picnic? You didn't think you could whip us 
men of the South, did you?" 

One of the prisoners spoke up in reply, — 

" Yes, d — n you, we did, and we will. You haven't 
won this fight yet, and Joe Hooker will lick h; — 1 out of 
you and recapture us before you get us out of these 
woods." 

The general laughed good-naturedly at the banter his 
questions had elicited, and solemnly assured them that 
there were not men enough in the whole North to take 
Richmond. Our man was probably misinformed as to 
who their interlocutor was. General Lee did not wear 
long, bushy whiskers, and was at that time probably down 
directing operations against Fredericksburg. This was 
probably Jeb Stuart, who had succeeded Jackson in com- 
mand of that wing of the rebel army. 

Our prisoner fared much better than most prisoners, 
for it was his good fortune to be exchanged after twenty- 

237 



War from the Inside 

three days' durance, probably owing to the expiration of 
his term of service. Although the actual dates of enlist- 
ment of our men were all in July and their terms there- 
fore expired, the government insisted upon holding us for 
the full period of nine months from the date of actual 
muster into the United States service, which would not 
be completed until the 14th of May. We had, therefore, 
eight days' service remaining after our return from the 
battle of Chancellorsville, and we were continued in all 
duties just as though we had months yet to serve. Our 
principal work was the old routine of picket duty again. 
Our friends, the enemy, were now quick to tantalize our 
pickets with the defeat at Chancellorsville. Such remarks 
as these were volleyed at us : 

"We 'uns give you 'uns a right smart lickin' up in 
them woods." 

" How d'ye like Virginny woods, Yank?" 

And then they sang to us : 

"Ain't ye mighty glad to get out the wilderness?" 

A song just then much in vogue. Another volunteered 
the remark, as if to equalize the honors in some measure, 
" If we did wallop you 'uns, you 'uns killed our best 
general." " We feel mighty bad about Stonewall's 
death," and so their tongues would run on, whether our 
men replied or not. 



238 



CHAPTER XVII 



THE MUSTER OUT AND HOME AGAIN 

On the 14th of May we received orders to proceed to 
Harrisburg for muster out. There was, of course, great 
rejoicing at the early prospect of home scenes once more. 
We walked on air, and lived for the next few days in 
fond anticipation. We were the recipients of any amount 
of attention from our multitude of friends in the division. 
Many were the forms of leave-taking that took place. It 
was a great satisfaction to realize that in our compara- 
tively brief period of service we had succeeded in winning 
our way so thoroughly into the big hearts of those vet- 
erans. The night before our departure was one of the 
gladdest and saddest of all our experience. The Four- 
teenth Connecticut band, that same band which had so 
heroically played out between the lines when the Eleventh 
Corps broke on that fateful Saturday night at Chan- 
cellorsville, came over and gave us a farewell serenade. 
They played most of the patriotic airs, with " Home, 
Sweet Home," which I think never sounded quite so 
sadly sweet, and suggestively wound up with " When 
Johnny Comes Marching Home." Most of the officers 
and men of the brigade were there to give us a soldier's 
good-by, and Major-General Couch, commanding our 
corps (the Second), also paid us the compliment of a 
visit and made a pleasant little speech to the men who 

239 



War from the Inside 

were informally grouped around head-quarters, com- 
mending our behavior in three of the greatest battles of 
the war. 

It had been our high honor, he said, to have had a part 
in those great battles, and though new and untried we 
had acquitted ourselves with great credit and had held 
our ground like veterans. He expressed the fervent hope 
that our patriotism would still further respond to the 
country's needs, and that we would all soon again be in 
the field. Our honors were not yet complete. General 
French, commanding our division, issued a farewell order, 
a copy of which I would have been glad to publish, but 
I have not been able to get it. It was, however, gratify- 
ing in the extreme. He recounted our bravery under his 
eye in those battles and our efficient service on all duty, 
and wound up by saying he felt sure that men with such 
a record could not long remain at home, but would soon 
again rally around their country's flag. Of General 
Couch, our corps commander, we had seen but little, and 
were therefore very pleasantly surprised at his visit. Of 
General French, bronzed and grizzly bearded, we had 
seen much; all our work had been under his immediate 
supervision. He was a typical old regular, and many 
were the cuffs and knocks we received for our inexpe- 
rience and shortcomings, all, however, along the lines of 
discipline and for our good, and which had really helped 
to make soldiers of us. These incidents showed that 
each commanding general keeps a keen eye on all his 
regiments, and no one is quicker to detect and appreciate 
good behavior than they. We felt especially pleased with 
the praises of General French, because it revealed the 

240 



The Muster Out and Home Again 

other side of this old hero's character. Rough in exterior 
and manner of speech, he was a strong character and a 
true hero. 

His position at the breaking out of the war will illus- 
trate this. He was a Southerner of the type of Anderson 
and Farragut. When so many of his fellows of the 
regular army, under pretext of following their States, 
went over into rebellion and treason, he stood firm and 
under circumstances which reflect great credit upon him. 
He had been in Mexico and had spent a life on the 
frontier, and had grown old and gray in the service, reach- 
ing only the rank of captain. When the war finally came 
he was in command of a battery of artillery stationed 
some three hundred and fifty miles up the Rio Grande, 
on the border of Mexico. He was cut off from all com- 
munication with Washington, and the commander of his 
department, the notorious General David E. Twiggs, had 
gone over to the Confederacy. He was, therefore, thor- 
oughly isolated. Twiggs sent him a written order to 
surrender his battery to the rebel commander of that 
district. His characteristic reply was, that he would " see 
him and the Confederacy in hell first;" that he was going 
to march his battery into God's country, and if anybody 
interfered with his progress they might expect a dose of 
shot and shell they would long remember. None of them 
felt disposed to test his threat, and so he marched his 
battery alone down through that rebel country those three 
hundred and fifty miles and more into our lines at the 
mouth of the Rio Grande, bringing off every gun and 
every dollar's worth of government property that he could 
carry, and what he could not carry he destroyed. He was 
i6 241 



War from the Inside 

immediately ordered north with his battery and justly 
rewarded with a brigadier-general's commission. 

Early on the morning of the 15th we broke camp and 
bade farewell to that first of the world's great armies, the 
grand old Army of the Potomac. Need I say that, joyous 
as was our home-going, there was more than a pang at 
the bottom of our hearts as we severed those heroic asso- 
ciations ? A last look at the old familiar camp, a wave of 
the hand to the friendly adieus of our comrades, whose 
good-by glances indicated that they would gladly have 
exchanged places with us ; that if our hearts were wrung 
at going, theirs were, too, at remaining; a last march 
down those Falmouth hills, another and last glance at 
those terrible works behind Fredericksburg, and we 
passed out of the army and out of the soldier into the 
citizen, for our work was now done and we were soldiers 
only in name. 

As our train reached Belle-plain, where we were to 
take boat for Washington, we noticed a long train of 
ambulances moving down towards the landing, and were 
told they were filled with wounded men, just now brought 
off the field at Chancellorsville. There were upward of 
a thousand of them. It seems incredible that the wounded 
should have been left in those woods during these ten to 
twelve days since the battle. How many hundreds per- 
ished during that time for want of care nobody knows, 
and, more horrible still, nobody knows how many poor 
fellows were burned up in the portions of those woods 
that caught fire from the artillery. But such is war. 
Dare any one doubt the correctness of Uncle Billy Sher- 
man's statement that " War is hell !" 

242 



The Muster Out and Home Again 

Reaching Washington, the regiment bivouacked a sin- 
gle night, awaiting transportation to Harrisburg. During 
this time discipHne was relaxed and the men were per- 
mitted to see the capital city. The Heutenant-colonel and 
I enjoyed the extraordinary luxury of a good bath, a 
square meal, and a civilized bed at the Metropolitan 
Hotel, the first in five long months. Singular as it may 
seem, I caught a terrific cold as the price I paid for it. 
The next day we were again back in Camp Curtin, at 
Harrisburg, with nothing to do but to make out the neces- 
sary muster rolls, turn in our government property, — 
guns, accoutrements, blankets, etc., and receive our dis- 
charges. This took over a week, so that it was the 24th 
of May before we were finally discharged and paid off. 
Then the several companies finally separated. 

If it had been hard to leave our comrades of the Army 
of the Potomac, it was harder to sever the close comrade- 
ship of our own regiment, a relationship formed and 
cemented amidst the scenes that try men's souls, a com- 
radeship born of fellowship in privation, danger, and 
suffering. I could hardly restrain my tears as we finally 
parted with our torn and tattered colors, the staff of one 
of which had been shot away in my hands. We had 
fought under their silken folds on three battle-fields, upon 
which we had left one-third of our number killed and 
wounded, including a colonel and three line officers and 
upward of seventy-five men killed and two hundred and 
fifteen wounded. Out of our regiment of one thousand 
and twenty-four men mustered into the service August 
14, 1862, we had present at our muster out six hundred 
and eighteen. We had lost in battle two hundred and 

243 



War from the Inside 

ninety-five in killed and wounded and one hundred and 
eleven from physical disability, sickness, etc., and all in 
the short space of nine months. Of the sixteen nine- 
months regiments formed in August, 1862, the One Hun- 
dred and Thirtieth and ours were the only regiments to 
actively participate in the three great battles of Antietam, 
Fredericksburg, and Chancellorsville, and we lost more 
men than either of the others. 

I should mention a minor incident that occurred during 
our stay in Harrisburg preparing for muster out. A 
large number of our men had asked me to see if I could 
not get authority to re-enlist a battalion from the regi- 
ment. I was assured that three-fourths of the men would 
go back with me, provided they could have a two weeks' 
furlough. I laid the matter before Governor Curtin. He 
said the government should take them by all means ; that 
here was a splendid body of seasoned men that would be 
worth more than double their number of new recruits; 
but he was without authority to take them, and suggested 
that I go over to Washington and lay the matter before 
the Secretary of War. He gave me a letter to the latter 
and I hurried off. I had no doubt of my ability to raise 
an entire regiment from the great number of nine-months 
men now being discharged. I repaired to the War De- 
partment, and here my troubles began. Had the lines of 
sentries that guarded the approach to the armies in the 
field been half as efficient as the cordon of flunkies that 
barred the way to the War Office, the former would have 
been beyond the reach of any enemy. At the entrance 
my pedigree was taken, with my credentials and a state- 
ment of my business. I was finally permitted to sit down 

244 



The Muster Out and Home Again 

in a waiting-room with a waiting crowd. Occasionally 
a senator or a congressman would break the monotony 
by pushing himself in whilst we cultivated our patience 
by waiting. Lunch time came and went. I waited. Sev- 
eral times I ventured some remarks to the attendant as 
to when I might expect my turn to come, but he looked 
at me with a sort of far-off look, as though I could not 
have realized to whom I was speaking. Finally, driven 
to desperation, after waiting more than four hours, I 
tried a little bluster and insisted that I would go in and 
see somebody. Then I was assured that the only official 

about the office was a Colonel , acting assistant 

adjutant-general. I might see him. 

" Yes," I said, " let me see him, anybody !" 

I was ushered into the great official's presence. He 
was a lieutenant-colonel, just one step above my own 
rank. He was dressed in a faultless new uniform. His 
hair was almost as red as a fresh red rose and parted in 
the middle, and his pose and dignity were quite worthy 
of the national snob hatchery at West Point, of which he 
was a recent product. 

" Young man," said he, with a supercilious air, " what 
might your business be?" 

I stated that I had brought a letter from His Excel- 
lency, Governor Curtin, of Pennsylvania, to the Secretary 
of War, whom I desired to see on important business. 

" Where is your letter, sir?" 

" I gave it up to the attendant four hours ago, who, I 
supposed, took it to the Secretary." 

" There is no letter here, sir! What is your business? 
You cannot see the Secretary of War." 

245 



War from the Inside 

I then briefly stated my errand. His reply was, — 

" Young man, if you really desire to serve your coun- 
try, go home and enlist." 

Thoroughly disgusted, I retired, and so ended what 
might have saved to the service one of the best bodies of 
men that ever wore a government uniform, and at a time 
when the country was sorely in need of them. 

A word now of the personnel of the One Hundred and 
Thirty-second Regiment and I am done. Dr. Bates, in 
his history of the Pennsylvania troops, remarks that this 
regiment was composed of a remarkable body of men. 
This judgment must have been based upon his knowledge 
of their work. Every known trade was represented in 
its ranks. Danville gave us a company of iron workers 
and merchants, Catawissa and Bloomsburg, mechanics, 
tradesmen, and farmers. From Mauch Chunk we had 
two companies, which included many miners. From 
Wyoming and Bradford we had three companies of 
sturdy, intelligent young farmers intermingled with some 
mechanics and tradesmen. Scranton, small as she was 
then, gave us two companies, which was scarcely a moiety 
of the number she sent into the service. I well remember 
how our flourishing Young Men's Christian Association 
was practically suspended because its members had gone 
to the war, and old Nay Aug Hose Company, the pride 
of the town, in which many of us had learned the little 
we knew of drill, was practically defunct for want of a 
membership which had " gone to the war." Of these two 
Scranton companies. Company K had as its basis the old 
Scranton City Guard, a militia organization which, if not 
large, was thoroughly well drilled and made up of most 

246 



The Muster Out and Home Again 

excellent material. Captain Richard Stillwell, who com- 
manded this company, had organized the City Guard and 
been its captain from the beginning. The other Scranton 
company was perhaps more distinctively peculiar in its 
personnel than either of the other companies. It was 
composed almost exclusively of Delaware, Lackawanna 
& Western Railroad shop and coal men, and was known 
as the Railroad Guards. In its ranks were locomotive 
engineers, firemen, brakemen, trainmen, machinists, tele- 
graph operators, despatchers, railroad-shop men, a few 
miners, foremen, coal-breaker men, etc. Their captain, 
James Archbald, Jr., was assistant to his father as chief 
engineer of the road, and he used to say that with his 
company he could survey, lay out, build and operate a 
railroad. The first sergeant of that company, George 
Conklin, brother of D. H. Conklin, chief despatcher of 
the Delaware, Lackawanna & Western, and his assistant, 
had been one of the first to learn the art of reading tele- 
graph messages by ear, an accomplishment then quite 
uncommon. His memory had therefore been so devel- 
oped that after a few times calling his company roll he 
dispensed with the book and called it alphabetically from 
memory. Keeping a hundred names in his mind in proper 
order we thought quite a feat. Forty years later, at one 
of our reunions, Mr. Conklin, now superintendent of a 
railroad, was present. I asked him if he remembered 
calling his company roll from memory. 

" Yes," said he, " and I can do it now, and recall every 
face and voice," and he began and rattled off the names 
of his roll. He said sometimes in the old days the boys 
would try to fool him by getting a comrade to answer 

247 



War from the Inside 

for them, but they could never do it, he would detect the 
different voice instantly. 

Now, as I close this narrative, shall I speak of the gala 
day of our home-coming? I can, of course, only speak 
of the one I participated in, the coming home to Scranton 
of Companies I and K and the members of the field and 
staff who lived here. This, however, will be a fair de- 
scription of the reception each of the other companies 
received at their respective homes. Home-coming from 
the war ! Can we who know of it only as we read appre- 
ciate such a home-coming? That was forty-one years 
ago the 25th of last May. Union Hall, on Lackawanna 
Avenue, midway between Wyoming and Penn, had been 
festooned with flags, and in it a sumptuous dinner awaited 
us. A committee of prominent citizens, our old friends, 
not one of whom is now living, met us some distance 
down the road. A large delegation of Scranton's ladies 
were at the hall to welcome and serve us, and of these, 
the last one, one of the mothers and matrons, has just 
passed into the great beyond. Many of those of our own 
age, the special attraction of the returning " boys," have 
also gone, but a goodly number still remain. They will 
recall this picture with not a little interest, I am sure. 
If perchance cheeks should be wet and spectacles moist- 
ened as they read, it will be but a reproduction of the 
emotions of that beautiful day more than forty years ago. 
No soldier boys ever received a more joyous or hearty 
welcome. The bountiful repast was hurriedly eaten, for 
anxious mothers, wives, sisters, and sweethearts were 
there, whose claim upon their returning " boy in blue" for 
holier and tenderer relationship was paramount. 

248 



The Muster Out and Home Again 

Amidst all these joyous reunions, were there no 
shadows? Ah, yes. In the brief period of nine months 
our regiment had lost forty per cent, of its membership. 
Company I had gone to the front with one hundred and 
one stalwart officers and men, and but sixty-eight came 
back with the company. Of the missing names, Daniel 
S. Gardner, Moses H. Ames, George H. Cator, Daniel 
Reed, Richard A. vSmith, and John B. West were killed 
in battle or died of wounds soon after ; Orville Sharp had 
died in the service. The others had succumbed to the 
hardships of the service and been discharged. Of the 
same number Company K took into the service, sixty-six 
came home with the company. Sergeant Martin L. 
Hower, Richard Davis, Jacob Eschenbach, Jephtha Milli- 
gan, Allen Sparks, Obadiah Sherwood, and David C. 
Young had been killed in battle or died of wounds; 
Thomas D. Davis, Jesse P. Kortz, Samuel Snyder, James 
Scull, Solon Searles, and John W. Wright had died in 
the service. The most conspicuous figure in the regiment, 
our colonel, Richard A. Oakford, had been the first to 
fall. So that amidst our rejoicings there were a multi- 
tude of hearts unutterably sad. Will the time ever come 
when " the bitter shall not be mingled with the sweet" 
and tears of sorrow shall not drown the cup of gladness ? 
Let us hope and pray that it may; and now, as Father 
Time tenderly turns down the heroic leaf of the One 
Hundred and Thirty-second Pennsylvania Volunteers, let 
us find comfort in the truth, 

''Duke et decorum est, pro patria mori." 



249 



APPENDIX 



The following are copies of the muster-out rolls of the Field and 
Staflf and the several companies of the One Hundred and Thirty- 
second Regiment, Pennsylvania Volunteers, taken originally from 
Bates's History, and compared and corrected from the original rolls 
in the Adjutant-General's office, at Harrisburg, Pa. Several correc- 
tions have been made from the personal recollections of officers and 
men whom I have been able to consult. There are doubtless errors in 
the original rolls, owing to the paucity of records in the hands of 
those whose duty it was to make them at the time of muster-out, 
owing to resignations and other casualties. Some of these officers 
were new in the command, and complete records were not in their 
hands. It will be remembered that the whole period of service of 
the One Hundred and Thirty-second was occupied in the three 
strenuous campaigns of Antietam, Fredericksburg, and Chancellors- 
ville, during which regimental and company baggage, which in- 
cluded official records, were seldom seen, and in many cases were 
entirely lost. For example, at the battle of Chancellorsville on the 
fateful 3d of May, we had lain in line of battle behind our knapsacks 
piled up in twos, as a little protection from bullets. When we were 
ordered forward, so quick was the movement, that these knapsacks, 
and officers' luggage as well, were ordered to be left. When, two 
hours later, on our return we reached this ground, we found our 
knapsacks were at the bottom of an earth-work which had been 
hurriedly thrown up during our absence, over which a line of 
batteries thrust the frowning muzzles of their guns. With one or 
two exceptions (where the officer commanding the company hap- 
pened to have it in his pocket), the company rolls were lost in 
the knapsacks of the first sergeant, whose duty it was to carry it. 
Thereupon new rolls had to be made up, and of course mostly from 
memory. Under all these circumstances, the wonder is that there 
are not more errors in them. Almost at the last moment did I 
learn that I could include these rolls in my book, without exceeding 
its limits under the contract price. During this time I have en- 

251 



Appendix 

deavored at considerable expense and labor to get them correct, 
but even so, I cannot hope that they are more than approximately 
complete. Nothing can be more sacred or valuable to the veteran 
and his descendants than his war record. The difficulty with these 
rolls will be found I fear not so much in what is so briefly stated, 
but in what has been inadvertently omitted, and which was neces- 
sary to a complete record. There are a number of desertions. I 
have given them as they are on the rolls. It is possible that some 
of these men may have dropped out of the column from exhaust- 
ion on the march, fallen sick and had been taken to some hospital 
and died without identification. Failing to report at roll-call and 
being unaccounted for, they would be carried on the company rolls 
as " absent without leave," until prolonged absence without informa- 
tion would compel the adding of the fearful word " deserted." 
There were instances where men taken sick made their way home 
without leave and were marked deserters. After recovering from 
a severe case of " army fever" they returned again to duty. This 
was in violation of discipline, and under the strict letter of the 
law they were deserters, but they saved the government the cost 
of their nursing, and, what is more, probably saved their lives and 
subsequent service by their going. I mention these things so that 
where the record appears harsh, the reader may know that possibly, 
if all the facts had been known, it might have been far different. 

FIELD AND STAFF. 

Richard A. Oakford, colonel, mustered in Aug. 22, 1862; killed 
at Antietam, Sept. 17, 1862. 

Vincent M. Wilcox, colonel, mustered in Aug. 26, 1862; pro- 
moted from lieutenant-colonel September, 1862; discharged on 
surgeon's certificate Jan. 24, 1863. 

Charles Albright, colonel, mustered in Aug. 22, 1862 ; pro- 
moted from major to lieutenant-colonel September, 1862, to colonel 
Jan. 24, 1863 ; mustered out with regiment May 24. 1863. 

Joseph E. Shreve, lieutenant-colonel, promoted from captain 
Co. A to major September, 1862, to lieutenant-colonel Jan. 24, 1863; 
mustered out with regiment May 24, 1863. 

Frederick L. Hitchcock, major, mustered in Aug. 22, 1862 ; pro- 
moted from adjutant Jan. 24, 1863; twice wounded at Fredericks- 
burg Dec. 13, 1862 ; mustered out with regiment May 24, 1863. 

Austin F. Clapp, adjutant, promoted from corporal Co. K to 

252 



Appendix 

sergeant-major Nov. I, 1862; to adjutant Jan. 24, 1863; mustered 
out with regiment May 24, 1863. 

Clinton W. Neal, quartermaster, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862 ; 
promoted from Co. E Aug. 22, 1862 ; mustered out with regiment 
May 24, 1863. 

James W. Anawalt, surgeon (major), mustered in Sept. 22, 
1862 ; mustered out with regiment May 24, 1863. 

George K. Thompson, assistant surgeon (first lieutenant), mus- 
tered in Aug. 19, 1862; mustered out with regiment May 24, 1863. 

George W. Hoover, assistant surgeon (first lieutenant), mustered 
in Sept. 3, 1862; mustered out with regiment May 24, 1863. 

A. H. Schoonmaker, chaplain (first lieutenant), mustered in Sept. 
20, 1862 ; mustered out with regiment May 24, 1863. 

Thomas Maxwell, sergeant-major, promoted to sergeant-major 
from Co. A Aug. 22, 1862 ; promoted to first lieutenant Co. A Nov. 
I, 1862. (See Co. A.) 

Frank J. Deemer, sergeant-major, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; 
promoted from Co. K Jan. 24, 1863 ; mustered out with regiment 
May 24, 1863. 

Elmore H. Wells, quartermaster-sergeant, mustered in Aug. 15, 
1862 ; promoted from Co. B Aug. 26, 1862 ; owing to prolonged 
sickness in hospital returned to Co. Jan. i, 1863. (See Co. B.) 

Brooks A. Bass, quartermaster-sergeant, mustered in Aug. 15, 
1862 ; promoted from Co. I Jan. i, 1863 ; mustered out with 
regiment May 24, 1863. 

John F. Salmon, commissary-sergeant, mustered in Aug. 13, 
1862; promoted from Co. G Aug. 15, 1862; died at Harper's 
Ferry, Va., Oct. 16, 1862. 

William W. Coolbaugh, commissary-sergeant, mustered in Aug. 
15, 1862; promoted from Co. K Oct. 17, 1862; transferred to com- 
pany Dec. 25, 1862. (See Co. K.) 

Alonzo R. Case, commissary-sergeant, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; 
promoted from sergeant Co. C Dec. 25, 1862; mustered out with 
regiment May 24, 1863. 

Horace A. Deans, hospital steward, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; 
promoted from Co. I Oct. i, 1862 ; transferred to ranks April i, 
1863. (See Co. I.) 

Moses G. Corwin, hospital steward, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862 ; 
promoted from Co. K April 6, 1863 ; mustered out with regiment 
May 24, 1863. 

253 



Appendix 

COMPANY A. 

Joseph E. Shreve, captain, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; promoted 
to major. See Field and Staff. 

Charles C. Norris, captain, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; promoted 
from second lieutenant Nov. i, 1862; mustered out with company 
May 24, 1863. 

George W. Vangilder, first lieutenant, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; 
discharged on surgeon's certificate Oct. 26, 1862. 

Thomas Maxwell, first lieutenant, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; 
promoted from sergeant-major Nov. i, 1862; mustered out with 
regiment, 

* Bates's History, Pennsylvania Volunteers, places here the name 
of " Charles A. Meylert, second lieutenant, promoted from pri- 
vate, Co. K, Feb. 23, 1863, missing since that date." Co. K's roll 
notes the transfer of this man to Co. A. His name is not on the 
original roll of Co. A, and is therefore omitted here. The follow- 
ing note received from Captain Charles C. Norris, Co. A, explains : 

Philadelphia, July 12, 1904. 
Colonel F. L. Hitchcock, Scranton, Pa. 

My Dear Colonel: ... I have a copy of the muster-out roll of 
Co. A, to which I have referred. ... I would also state that Charles 
A. Meylert does not appear on the muster-out roll, nor was he at 
any time carried on the roll of Co. A. ... On the march from 
Harper's Ferry to Warrenton, Va., about Nov. i, 1862, Co. A held 
an election for officers to fill vacancies caused by the promotion of 
Captain Shreve to be major of the regiment. The following were 
elected : Chas. C. Norris, captain ; Thomas Maxwell, first lieuten- 
ant, and Edward W. Roderick, second lieutenant. The result of 
this election was forwarded through head-quarters to Governor 
Curtin. The commissions were not sent on until some time 10 
December, 1862. Colonel Albright, commanding the regiment, sent 
for me one day and told me he had received a commission for 
Charles A. Meylert as second lieutenant of Co. A ; that it was an 
outrage upon Co. A, and that he would send it back to Governor 
Curtin with a letter, which I believe he did, the result of which was 
Roderick's commission was issued in accordance with his election, 
and he was mustered in, and Meylert's commission was revoked. 

254 



Appendix 

Ed. W. Roderick, second lieutenant, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; 
promoted from private; mustered out with company. 

David Shutt, first sergeant, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; promoted 
from sergeant March i, 1863; mustered out with company May 24, 
1863. 

J. M. Hassenplug, sergeant, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862 ; killed 
at Antietam, Md., Sept. 17, 1862. 

John S. Ware, sergeant, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; promoted 
from corporal March i, 1863 ; mustered out with company May 24, 
1863. 

Isaac D. Crewitt, sergeant, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862 ; promoted 
from corporal March i, 1863 ; mustered out with company May 24, 
1863. 

Michael Kessler, sergeant, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; promoted 
from private March 6, 1863; wounded at Fredericksburg, Va., Dec. 
13, 1862 ; mustered out with company May 24, 1863. 

George Lovett, sergeant, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862 ; promoted 
from private Feb. i, 1863; mustered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Jacob H. Miller, sergeant, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862 ; discharged, 
Jan. 30, 1863, at Washington, for wounds received at Antietam, Va., 
Sept. 17, 1862. 

Joseph H. Nevins, sergeant, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; dis- 
charged on surgeon's certificate March 6, 1863, at Baltimore, Md. 

Daniel Vanrouk, sergeant, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; killed at 
Antietam, Md., Sept. 17, 1862. 

Jacob Redfield, corporal, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; promoted 
from private Sept. 18, 1862; wounded at Chancellorsville, Va., May 
3, 1863 ; mustered out with company May 24, 1863. 

James Williams, corporal, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; promoted 
from private Oct. 15, 1862; mustered out with company May 24, 
1863. 

Conrad S. Aten, corporal, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862 ; promoted 
from private Dec. 3, 1862 ; mustered out with company May 24, 1863. 

As the commanding officer of Co. A, I never received any official 
notice or record of Meylert's commission or muster into service ; 
hence his name was never entered upon my company roll. How 
Bates came to place his name upon my roll, I do not know. 
I am yours truly, 

Chas. C. Norris. 
255 



Appendix 

George Snyder, corporal, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; absent, sick, 
at muster-out. 

Alex. Huntington, corporal, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; pro- 
moted from private Feb. i, 1863; mustered out with company May 
24, 1863. 

Samuel Stall, corporal, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; promoted 
from private Feb. i, 1863; mustered out with company May 24, 
1863. 

Henry Vincent, corporal, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; promoted 
from private March 6, 1863; mustered out with company May 24, 

1863. 

John Harig, corporal, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; promoted from 
private March 6, 1863 ; mustered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Charles Flick, corporal, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862 ; discharged 
at Baltimore, Md., Dec. 6, 1862, of wounds received at Antietam 
Sept. 17, 1862. 

Nathan F. Lightner, corporal, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; dis- 
charged at Newark, N. J., on surgeon's certificate Dec. 8, 1862. 

Wm. C. McCormick, corporal, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; dis- 
charged March i, 1863; wounds received at Fredericksburg, Va., 
Dec. 13, 1862. 

Henry L. Shick, musician, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Amos Appleman, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Sylvester W. Arnwine, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; 
wounded at Antietam, Md., Sept. 17, 1862; mustered out with com- 
pany May 24, 1863. 

Henry Adams, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; died Sept. 
22 of wounds received at Antietam, Md., Sept. 17, 1862. 

Arthur W. Beaver, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Jacob J. Bookmiller, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862 ; wounded 
at Chancellorsville, Va., May 3, 1863 ; mustered out with company 
May 24, 1863. 

Franklin G. Blee, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Jeremiah Black, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

William H. Carroll, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; 

256 



Appendix 



wounded at Chancellorsville, Va., May 3, 1863 ; mustered out with 
company May 24, 1863. 

Samuel E. Cooper, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; deserted 
Oct. 22, 1862 ; left at Bolivar Heights, Va. ; sick, failed to return 
to company. 

Franklin Devine, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862 ; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

William Davis, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862 ; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Samuel V. Dye, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862 ; discharged 
at Philadelphia on surgeon's certificate April 8, 1863. 

William Earp, Jr., private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; wounded 
at Fredericksburg, Va., Dec. 13, 1862; mustered out with company 
May 24, 1863. 

James S. Easton, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Hiram Eggert, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; mustered out 
with company May 24, 1863. 

Joseph Feidel, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mustered out 
with company May 24, 1863. 

Samuel Flickinger, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862 ; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

John B. A. Foin, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

James Foster, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862 ; mustered out 
with company May 24, 1863. 

C. W. FiTZSiMMONS, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

John L. Fields, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mustered out 
with company May 24, 1863. 

George Francis, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; discharged 
at Harrisburg on surgeon's certificate Nov. 15, 1862. 

Thomas Goodall. private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Samuel Gulicks, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862 ; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

John Gibson, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862 ; killed at Antie- 
tam, Md., Sept. 17, 1862. 

Joseph Hale, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862 ; mustered out 
with company May 24, 1863. 

17 257 



Appendix 

George E. Hunt, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Adam Hornberger, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

D. Hendrickson, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Samuel Hillner, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; killed at 
Antietam, Md., Sept. 17, 1862. 

Hiram Hummel, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; killed at 
Antietam, Md., Sept. 17, 1862. 

Thomas Jones, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Thomas James, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

W. J. W. Klase, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Daniel J. P. Klase, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; killed at 
Antietam, Md., Sept. 17, 1862. 

Conrad Lechthaler, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; left 
sick at Warrenton, Va., Nov. 14, 1862; reported discharged; no 
official notice received. 

Samuel Langer, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

John Leichow, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862 ; discharged 
Oct. 28, 1862, for wounds received at Antietam, Md., Sept. 17, 1862. 

Jacob Long, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862 ; killed at Antie- 
tam, Md., Sept. 17, 1862. 

Watkin Morgan, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862 ; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Levi M. Miller, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Jacob W. Mover, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862 ; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Leonard Mayer, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Cornelius C. Mover, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

John Morris, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; wounded at 
Antietam, Md., Sept. 17, 1862; mustered out with company May 
24, 1863. 

258 



Appendix 

John McCoy, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; mustered out 
uith company May 24, 1863. 

James McKee, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; deserted 
Aug. 16, 1862, from Harrisburg. 

Wm. B. Neese, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862 ; wounded at 
Antietam, Md., Sept. 17, 1862; mustered out with company May 
24. 1863. 

James M. Phillips, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

John P. Reaser, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Simon Reidy, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; mustered out 
with company May 24, 1863. 

Isaac Rantz, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; mustered out 
with company May 24, 1863. 

David H. Rank, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; discharged 
on surgeon's certificate Jan. 29, 1863. 

Wm. a. Ringler, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; discharged 
May 5, 1863, for wounds received at Antietam, Md., September 17, 
1862. 

Jonathan Rice, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; killed at 
Fredericksburg, Va., Dec. 13, 1862. 

William Stewart, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Edward D. Smith, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862 ; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

William Sunday, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

August Schriever, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862 ; mustered 
out with company May 24. 1863. 

John Stine, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; mustered out 
with company May 24, 1863. 

Edwin L. Smith, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Oliver B. Switzer, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Sharp M. Snyder, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Aaron Sechler, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

259 



Appendix 

Archibald Vandling, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; dis- 
charged at Harrisburg on surgeon's certificate Nov. 28, 1862. 

Angus Wright, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; mustered 
out -with company May 24, 1863. 

Andrew Waugh, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

John Wallace, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; left sick in 
hospital at Harper's Ferry, Va. ; reported discharged ; no official 
notice received. 

Samuel Wote, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; mustered out 
with company May 24, 1863. 

Matthew R. Wright, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; killed 
at Fredericksburg, Va., Dec. 13, 1862. 

James D. Wray, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; deserted 
Sept. 19, 1862. 

COMPANY B. 

Smith W. Ingham, captain, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; resigned 
on surgeon's certificate at Georgetown, Sem. Hospital, Feb. 5, 1863. 

George H. Eastman, captain, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; pro- 
moted from first lieutenant Feb. 8, 1863 ; wounded at Chancellors- 
ville, Va., May 3, 1863 ; mustered out with company May 34, 1863. 

Anson G. Carpenter, first lieutenant, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; 
promoted from second lieutenant Feb. 8, 1863 ; mustered out with 
company May 24, 1863. 

DeWitt C. Kitchen, second lieutenant, mustered in Aug. 11, 
1862; promoted to first sergeant Sept. 18, 1862; to second lieutenant 
Feb. 8, 1863 ; mustered out with company May 24, 1863. 

John D. Smith, first sergeant, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; pro- 
moted to sergeant Nov. i, 1862; to first sergeant Feb. 8, 1863; 
mustered out with company May 24, 1863. 

George D. Warner, sergeant, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; killed 
at Antietam, Md., Sept. 17, 1862; buried in National Cemetery, 
Sec. 26, Lot A, Grave 14. 

Jonas H. Farr, sergeant, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; promoted 
from corporal Sept. 18, 1862; mustered out with company May 24, 
1863. 

Freeman H. Dixon, sergeant, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; cap- 
tured at Antietam, Md., Sept. 17, 1862; promoted from corporal 
Feb. 8, 1863 ; mustered out with company May 24, 1863. 

260 



Appendix 

Julian W. Stellwell, sergeant, mustered in Aug. ii, 1862; 
promoted to corporal Sept. 12, 1862; to sergeant Feb. 8, 1863; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Abner Lewis, sergeant, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; promoted 
from private Nov. i, 1862 ; mustered out with company May 24, 
1863. 

John H. Teneyck, sergeant, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; killed 
at Antietam, Md., Sept. 17, 1862; buried in National Cemetery, 
Sec. 26, Lot A, Grave 15. 

John B. Overfield, corporal, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; wounded 
at Fredericksburg, Va., Dec. 13, 1862; mustered out with company 
May 24, 1863. 

John W. Reynolds, corporal, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; pro- 
moted to corporal Sept. 12, 1862; mustered out with company May 
24, 1863. 

Calvin L. Briggs, corporal, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; pro- 
moted to corporal Feb. 8, 1863 ; wounded at Chancellorsville, Va., 
May 3, 1863 ; mustered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Hansom H. Carrier, corporal, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; pro- 
moted to corporal Feb. 8, 1863 ; wounded at Chancellorsville, Va., 
May 3, 1863 ; mustered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Isaac Polmatien, corporal, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; promoted 
to corporal Feb. 8, 1862 ; wounded at Chancellorsville, Va., May 
3, 1863 ; mustered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Daniel W. Smith, corporal, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

George N. Colvin, corporal, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; pro- 
moted to corporal Feb. 8, 1863 ; mustered out with company May 
24, 1863. 

Porter Carpenter, corporal, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; pro- 
moted to corporal Feb. 8, 1863 ; mustered out with company May 
24, 1863. 

James N. Gardner, corporal, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; dis- 
charged on surgeon's certificate Nov. 23, 1862. 

Otis Gilmore, corporal, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; wounded 
at Antietam, Md., Sept. 17, 1862; discharged at Ascension Hos- 
pital, Washington, D. C, on surgeon's certificate December 23, 
1862. 

Decatur Hewett, corporal, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; deserted 
April II, 1863. 

261 



Appendix 

Andrew J. Lewis, musician, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862 ; prisoner 
of war from May 3 to May 22, 1863; mustered out with company 
May 24, 1863. 

Robert L. Reynolds, musician, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; pris- 
oner of war from May 3 to May 22, 1863 ; mustered out with com- 
pany May 24, 1863. 

Elias Axon, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; mustered out 
with company May 24, 1863. 

LoREN Ball, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; prisoner of 
war from May 3 to May 22, 1863 ; mustered out with company 
May 24, 1863. 

John R. Briggs, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

WiLLARD E. Bullock, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; 
wounded at Antietam, Md., Sept. 17, 1862; mustered out with com- 
pany May 24, 1863. 

Joseph Billings, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Samuel Bishop, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; killed at 
Fredericksburg, Va., Dec. 13, 1862. 

Thomas J. Chase, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; absent 
in hospital since Sept. 6, 1862; mustered out with company May 24, 
1863. 

Levi Conklin, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; mustered out 
with company May 24, 1863. 

Thomas A. Castle, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

George A. Carney, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; wounded 
at Antietam, Md., Sept. 17, 1862 ; mustered out with company May 
24, 1863. 

Seth a. Cobb, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; wounded at 
Antietam, Md., Sept. 17, 1862; mustered out with company May 

24, 1863. 

Oliver E. Clark, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Adelbert Colvin, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; discharged 
at Harwood Hospital, Washington, on surgeon's certificate Sept. 

25, 1862. 

Benjamin V. Cole, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; killed 
at Antietam, Md., Sept. 17, 1862. 

262 



Appendix 



Jerome E. Detrick, private, mustered in Aug. il, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

James C. Degraw, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Ezra Dean, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; discharged at 
Harwood Hospital, Washington, on surgeon's certificate Sept. 29, 
1862. 

Charles Evans, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; killed at 
Antietam, Md., Sept. 17, 1862. 

John F. Evans, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; died at 
Acquia Creek, Va., Dec. 13, 1862 ; buried in Military Asylum Ceme- 
tery, Washington, D. C. 

Sylvester Farnham, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Elisha Farnham, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; wounded 
with loss of arm at Antietam, Md., Sept. 17, 1862; discharged on 
surgeon's certificate Jan. i, 1863. 

Dennis D. Gardner, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Alonzo E. Gregory, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; killed 
at Antietam, Md., Sept. 17, 1863. 

Philander Grow, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; died near 
Falmouth, Va., Dec. 17, 1862. 

Leslie E. Hawley, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; left sick 
at Harper's Ferry Oct. 30, 1862, discharged but received no official 
notice. 

Samuel Hooper, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Thomas M. Hines, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Harvey B. Howe, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; discharged 
at Acquia Creek Hospital on surgeon's certificate Feb. i, 1863. 

Peter B. Hanyon, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; discharged 
at Convalescent Camp Hospital on surgeon's certificate Feb. 15, 
1863. 

George M. Harding, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; wounded 
at Fredericksburg, Va., Dec. 13, 1862 ; discharged at hospital, 
Washington, on surgeon's certificate March 10, 1863. 

Benjamin H. Hanyon, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; de- 
serted Sept. 17, 1862; left in Smoketown Hospital. 

263 



Appendix 

Stephen T. Ingham, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Horace Jackson, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

JuDSON A. Jayne, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Martin V. Kennedy, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Silas G. Lewis, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Francis M. Lewis, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; wounded 
at Fredericksburg, Va., Dec. 13, 1862, and at Chancellorsville, Va,, 
May 3, 1863 ; mustered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Ezra A. Lawbert, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Alvah Letteen, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; discharged 
at Fort Wood Hospital, N. Y. Harbor, on surgeon's certificate 
March 4, 1863. 

Albanus Little, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; wounded 
at Antietam, Md., Sept. 17, 1862; absent at muster-out. 

Uriah Mott, private, mustered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Emmet J. Mathewson, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Charles W. Martin, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; dis- 
charged at Hammond's Hospital, Point Pleasant, Md., on surgeon's 
certificate Jan. 6, 1863. 

Wilson D. Minor, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; wounded 
at Antietam, Md., Sept. 17, 1862; discharged on surgeon's certifi- 
cate Nov. I, 1862. 

Thomas S. Moore, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; died at 
Georgetown, D. C, Oct. 14, 1862. 

Oliver C. Newberg, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; dis- 
charged at Patent Office, 400 F, Washington, D. C., on surgeon's 
certificate Jan. 11, 1863. 

Horace O'Neal, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Henry Ornt, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; killed at Antie- 
tam, Md., Sept. 17, 1862. 

Elisha Pedrick, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; wounded 
at Antietam, Md., Sept. 17, 1862. 

264 



Appendix 

Byron Prevost, private, mustered in Aug. ii, 1862; wounded at 
Antietam, Md., Sept. 17, 1862; mustered out with company May 
24, 1863. 

Charles Plattenburg, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

RuFUS F. Parrish, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; wounded 
at Antietam, Md., Sept. 17, 1862; discharged on surgeon's certifi- 
cate Feb. 25, 1863. 

Reuben Plattenburg, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; died 
at Washington, D. C, March 12, 1863. 

William H. Reynolds, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; 
wounded at Antietam, Md., Sept. 17, 1862; deserted Oct. 20, 1862; 
returned January 13, 1863 ; mustered out with company May 24, 
1863. 

Albert G. Reynolds, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Oliver E. Reynolds, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Perry T. Rought, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Washington L. Rought, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; 
discharged at Washington on surgeon's certificate Feb. 12, 1863. 

Milot Roberts, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; died Sept. 
20 of wounds received at Antietam, Md., Sept. 17, 1862. 

EsiCK Smith, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; mustered out 
with company May 24, 1863. 

Jeremiah Stanton, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Davis C. Smith, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; left in 
hospital near Falmouth May 15, 1863; absent at muster-out. 

William Shoemaker, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Asa Smerd, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; left sick at Belle 
Plains Landing Dec. 6, 1862 ; absent sick at muster-out. 

Harman Stark, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; wounded at 
Antietam, Md., Sept. 17, 1862; mustered out with company May 24, 
1863. 

Wesley J. Stark, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; deserted 
Nov. 20, 1862; returned March 12, 1863; mustered out with com- 
pany May 24, 1863. 

265 



Appendix 

Burton Shoemaker, private, mustered in Aug. ii, 1862; dis- 
charged at New York on surgeon's certificate Jan. 6, 1863. 

John H. Smith, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; killed at 
Antietam, Md., Sept. 17, 1862; buried in National Cemetery, Sec. 
26, Lot A, Grave 16. 

Joseph W. Stanton, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; left 
sick at Harper's Ferry Oct. 30, 1862; deserted from hospital. 

Jacob A. Thomas, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Utley Turner, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862 ; discharged 
at Philadelphia on surgeon's certificate Jan. 6, 1863. 

Henry B. Turner, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; killed 
at Antietam, Md., Sept. 17, 1862. 

W. B. Vanarsdale, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Andrew M. Wandle, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; cap- 
tured at Sniker's Gap, Va., Nov. 4, 1862, prisoner of war from 
Nov. 4 to Dec. 24, 1862; mustered out with company May 24, 1863. 

John Wall, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; mustered out 
with company May 24, 1863. 

* Elmore H. Wells, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862 ; promoted 
to quartermaster-sergeant of regiment Aug. 26, 1862 ; returned to 
company Jan. i, 1863; mustered out with company. 

Hiram E. Worden, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

COMPANY C. 

Herman Townsend, captain, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862; dis- 
charged on surgeon's certificate Jan. 10, 1863. 

Charles M. McDougal, captain, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862; 
promoted from first lieutenant Jan. 10, 1863 ; wounded at Fred- 
ericksburg, Va., Dec. 13, 1862 ; mustered out with company May 24, 
1863. 

James A. Rogers, first lieutenant, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; 
promoted from sergeant to first sergeant Sept. 18, 1862 ; to first 
lieutenant Jan. 10, 1863; mustered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Anson C. Cranmer, second lieutenant, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862; 
killed at Antietam, Md., Sept. 17, 1862. 

* Prolonged illness from typhoid fever. 
266 



Appendix 

Levi D. Landon, second lieutenant, mustered in Aug. ii, 1862; 
promoted from first sergeant Sept. 18, 1862; mustered out with 
company May 24, 1863. 

Russell J. Ross, first sergeant, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; pro- 
moted from corporal Jan. ix, 1863; mustered out with company 
May 24, 1863. 

DeWitt Teaver, sergeant, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Amos W. Vanfleet, sergeant, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; pro- 
moted from corporal Sept. 18, 1862; mustered out with company 
May 24, 1863. 

Andrew E. Watts, sergeant, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; pro- 
moted to corporal Sept. 18, 1862; to sergeant Jan. 11, 1863; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Samuel W. Wilcox, sergeant, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; pro- 
moted from corporal Oct. i, 1862; mustered out with company 
May 24, 1863. 

John C. Craven, sergeant, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; discharged 
on surgeon's certificate Feb. 5, 1863. 

Alonzo R. Case, sergeant, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; promoted 
to commissary-sergeant Dec. 25, 1862. (See Field and Staff.) 

H. W. Parkhurst, corporal, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; absent, 
sick, at muster-out. 

John A. Bloom, corporal, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

John McClure, corporal, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; promoted 
to corporal Jan. 11, 1863; wounded at Chancellorsville, Va., May 
3, 1863 ; mustered out with company May 24, 1863. 

LuciEN Bothwell, corporal, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; pro- 
moted to corporal Jan. 11, 1863; mustered out with company May 
24. 1863. 

Elijah R. Hickok, corporal, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; pro- 
moted to corporal March i, 1863 ; mustered out with company May 
24, 1863. 

Wallace Biddle, corporal, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; discharged 
on surgeon's certificate Feb. 15, 1863. 

Samuel E. Blanchard, corporal, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; 
discharged on surgeon's certificate Feb. 16, 1863. 

Melville F. Ephline, musician, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

267 



Appendix 



William Spencer, musician, mustered in Aug. ii, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Allen M. Ayres, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; wounded 
at Antietam, Md., Sept. 17, 1862 ; absent sick at muster-out. 

Harrison B. Benson, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

George Bennett, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Manning Bailey, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Amos S. Boothe, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; absent 
sick at muster-out. 

James A. Barnes, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Jeremiah Bailey, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; dis- 
charged on surgeon's certificate Nov. 24, 1862. 

Samuel H. Bartlett, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; died 
at Falmouth, Va., Feb. 4, 1863. 

Oliver Blanchard, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; died 
Sept. 24 of wounds received at Antietam, Md., Sept. 17, 1862; 
buried in National Cemetery, Sec. 26, Lot A, Grave 181. 

Leroy J. Cease, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Thomas D. Cross, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Nathan S. Denmark, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Lewis Darling, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Simeon Elliott, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Sylvester M. Green, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

John Grauteer, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Oscar C. Griswold, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Ambrose S. Gray, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

268 



Appendix 

Martin W. Gray, private, mustered in Atig. ii, 1862; discharged 
on surgeon's certificate Dec. 22, 1862. 

Henry H. Hoagland, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Jasper N. Hoagland, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Isaac N. Harvey, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

George W. Harvey, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

John J. Howland, private, mustered in xA.ug. 11, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Truman Harris, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Solon J. Hickok, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Stephen C. Hickok, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Charles O. Hazleton, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; dis- 
charged on surgeon's certificate April 20, 1863. 

William Hamilton, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; dis- 
charged on surgeon's certificate F"eb. 15, 1863. 

Francis Harris, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; died at 
Le Roy, Pa., Jan. 18, 1863. 

John C. Hurlburt, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; killed 
at Fredericksburg, Va., Dec. 13, 1862. 

Seth Howl.\nd, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; killed at 
Chancellorsville, Va., May 3, 1863. 

Andrew E. Hoagland, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; killed 
at Fredericksburg, Va., Dec. 13, 1862. 

William W. Haxton, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; de- 
serted Sept. 17, 1862. 

Silick June, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; mustered out 
with company May 24, 1863. 

Frederick Kerrick, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; dis- 
charged on surgeon's certificate Feb. 4, 1863. 

RoscoE S. LooMis, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

David P. Lindley, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

269 



Appendix 

Samuel Lindley, private, mustered in Aug. ii, 1862; pris- 
oner of war ; date not given ; mustered out with company May 
24, 1863. 

Ira Lindley, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; discharged 
April 29, 1863 ; expiration of term. 

Levi R. Lester, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; died at 
Washington, D. C, Feb. 9, 1863; buried in Military Asylum Ceme- 
tery. 

Lewis M. Leonard, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; killed 
at Fredericksburg, Va., Dec. 13, 1862. 

George Mallory, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; discharged 
on surgeon's certificate Nov. 28, 1862. 

Charles L. Miles, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; died near 
Falmouth, Va., May 12, 1863. 

Lyman R. Newell, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; dis- 
charged on surgeon's certificate Feb. 15, 1863. 

Stephen A. Randall, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

John H. Newell, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; discharged 
Oct. 29, 1862, on surgeon's certificate of disability. 

John Randall, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Charles M. Rogers, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

JuDSON A. RoYSE, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

DeWitt C. Robinson, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Jeremiah Rockwell, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; dis- 
charged on surgeon's certificate March 23, 1863. 

Lynds a. Spencer, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

James Soper, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; mustered out 
with company May 24, 1863. 

John B. Streets, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Geo. C. Shoemaker, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

John Schnader, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

270 



Appendix 

Solomon Stone, private, mustered in Aug. ii, 1862; prisoner 
of war; mustered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Lewis Sellard, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

William Smith, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; discharged 
on surgeon's certificate Feb. 9, 1863. 

Daniel W. Smith, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; dis- 
charged on surgeon's certificate Feb. 26, 1863. 

Nathan J. Spencer, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; dis- 
charged on surgeon's certificate April 2, 1863. 

James M. Snader. private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; dis- 
charged on surgeon's certificate Nov. 28, 1862. 

Luke P. Streeter, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; dis- 
charged on surgeon's certificate Oct. 12, 1862. 

Jeremiah Smith, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; died near 
Falmouth, Va., Jan. 8, 1863. 

Charles B. Thomas, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; killed 
at Fredericksburg, Va., Dec. 13, 1862. 

George M. Van Dyke, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863 

E. G. Van Dyke, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; prisoner 
of war ; mustered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Laning N. Vargason, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Sevellon a. Wilcox, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Jefferson A. Witherall, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; 
mustered out with company Aug. 24, 1863. 

Charles Walter, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Chauncey W. Wheeler, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; 
mustered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Merton C. Wright, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; dis- 
charged Sept. II, 1862, on surgeon's certificate. 

Joseph N. Wright, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; dis- 
charged Sept. II, 1862, on surgeon's certificate. 

RoswELL A. Walker, private, mustered in Aug. 11, 1862; died 
at Belle Plain, Va., Dec. 7, 1862. 



271 



Appendix 

COMPANY D. 

Charles H. Chase, captain, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; resigned 
Dec. 6, 1862. 

W. H. Carnochan, captain, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; pro- 
moted from second lieutenant Nov. 29, 1862 ; mustered out with 
company May 24, 1863. 

Charles E. Gladding, first lieutenant, mustered in Aug. 14, 
1862 ; mustered out with company Nov. 24, 1863. 

J. W. Brown, second lieutenant, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; 
discharged Aug. 20, 1862. to date Aug. 14, 1862. 

F. Marion Wells, second lieutenant, mustered in Aug. 12, 1862; 
promoted from first sergeant Dec. 6, 1862 ; wounded with loss of 
leg at Chancellorsville, Va., May 3, 1863 ; absent in hospital at 
muster-out; died a few days later. 

William C. Cobb, first sergeant, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862; 
promoted to first sergeant Feb. 6, 1863 ; mustered out with com- 
pany May 24, 1863. 

Alvah L. Cooper, sergeant, mustered in Aug. 12, 1862 ; promoted 
from corporal Feb. 6, 1863 ; mustered out with company May 24, 
1863. 

Lert Ballard, sergeant, mustered in Aug. 12, 1862 ; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Albert Long, sergeant, mustered in Aug. 12, 1862; promoted 
from corporal Jan. 29, 1863 ; mustered out with company May 24, 
1863. 

Albert S. Cobb, sergeant, mustered in Aug. 12, 1862 ; promoted 
from corporal Feb. 6, 1863 ; mustered out with company May 24, 
1863. 

Daniel Grace, corporal, mustered in Aug. 12, 1862 ; promoted 
to corporal April 16, 1863; mustered out with company May 24, 
1863. 

Alonzo Ross, corporal, mustered in Aug. 12, 1863 ; promoted to 
corporal April 16, 1863 ; mustered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Albert Preston, corporal, mustered in Aug. 12, 1862; wounded 
at Fredericksburg, Va., Dec. 13, 1862 ; promoted to corporal Feb. 
4, 1863 ; mustered out with company. 

James F. Carman, corporal, mustered in Aug. 12, 1863 ; promoted 
to corporal Jan. 7, 1863 ; mustered out with company. 

Albert O. Scott, corporal, mustered in Aug. 12, 1862 ; wounded 

272 



Appendix 



at Fredericksburg, Va., Dec. 13, 1862 ; promoted to corporal Feb. 
6, 1863 ; mustered out with company. 

FuRMAN Bullock, corporal, mustered in Aug. 12, 1862 ; pro- 
moted to corporal Feb. 6, 1863 ; mustered out with company. 

Samuel Harkness, corporal, mustered in Aug. 12, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

John C. McMahon, corporal, mustered in Aug. 12, 1862; dis- 
charged on surgeon's certificate Oct. 14, 1862. 

Elihu B. Chase, corporal, mustered in Aug. 12, 1862 ; discharged 
on surgeon's certificate Oct. 14, 1862. 

L. N. BuRNHAM, corporal, mustered in Aug. 12, 1862; died 
Nov. 14, 1862, of wounds received at Antietam, Md., Sept. 17, 1862; 
buried at Chester, Pa. 

Hubbard H. Williams, corporal, mustered in Aug. 12, 1862 ; 
deserted at Washington, D. C, Nov. 10, 1862 ; returned May i, 
1865 ; discharged by General Order June 12, 1865. 

Nathaniel Mattock, musician, mustered in Aug. 12, 1862; 
mustered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Daniel H. Moore, musician, mustered in Aug. 12, 1862; dis- 
charged on surgeon's certificate Jan. 6, 1863. 

Stephen T. Hall, wagoner, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; pro- 
moted to corporal Aug. 15, 1862; reduced to ranks Feb. 6, 1863; 
mustered out with company. 

John B. Alexander, private, mustered in Aug. 12, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Jltlian L. Andrus, private, mustered in Aug. 12, 1862 ; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Nathan E. Bailey, private, mustered in Aug. 12, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Charles Boyce, private, mustered in Aug. 12, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Darius Bullock, private, mustered in Aug. 12, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Joseph Boughton, private, mustered in Aug. 12, 1862; wounded 
at Fredericksburg, Va., Dec. 13, 1862; mustered out with com- 
pany. 

Warren S. Bixley, private, mustered in Aug. 12, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Ellis H. Best, private, mustered in Aug. 12, 1862 ; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 
18 273 



Appendix 

George Bennett, private, mustered in Aug. 12, 1862 ; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Aaron W. Bailey, private, mustered in Aug. 12, 1862; dis- 
charged on surgeon's certificate Jan. 20, 1863. 

Oliver E. Blakeslee, private, mustered in Aug. 12, 1862; died 
at Washington, D. C, Jan. 23, 1863; pneumonia. 

Orrin G. Blakeslee, private, mustered in Aug. 12, 1862; died 
at Harper's Ferry, Va., Nov. 19, 1862. 

Warren S. Bailey, private, mustered in Aug. 12, 1862; deserted 
Oct. 3, 1862, at Harper's Ferry. 

Richard W. Canedy, private, mustered in Aug. 12, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

William M. Clark, private, mustered in Aug. 12, 1862 ; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Daniel Carman, private, mustered in Aug. 12, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Charles O. Dark, private, mustered in Aug. 12, 1862 ; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Christopher Denmark, private, mustered in Aug. 12, 1862; 
wounded at Fredericksburg, Va., Dec. 13, 1862; mustered out with 
company May 24, 1863. 

Reuben Dudley, private, mustered in Aug. 12, 1862; discharged 
on surgeon's certificate March i, 1863. 

Peter Fuller, private, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862 ; wounded at 
Chancellorsville, Va., May 3, 1863 ; in hospital at muster-out. 

George Fields, private, mustered in Aug. 12, 1862 ; wounded at 
Antietam, Md., Sept. 17, 1862; mustered out with company May 
24, 1863. 

Leander L. Gregory, private, mustered in Aug. 12, 1862 ; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

George C. Gerould, private, mustered in Aug. 12, 1862 ; died 
Oct. 14 of wounds received at Antietam, Md., Sept. 17, 1862. 

Richard M. Howland, private, mustered in Aug. 12, 1862 ; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

George W. Howland, private, mustered in Aug. 12, 1862 ; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Jerome S. Hill, private, mustered in Aug. 12, 1862 ; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

George W. Hardy, private, mustered in Aug. 12, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

274 



Appendix 

Martin Harkness, private, mustered in Aug. 12, 1862; dis- 
charged on surgeon's certificate Dec. 16, 1862. 

Benjamin F. Jones, private, mustered in Aug. 12, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Lewis VV. Jones, private, mustered in Aug. 12, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Richard M. Johnson, private, mustered in Aug. 12, 1862; de- 
serted Sept. 14, 1862. 

Alvah M. Kent, private, mustered in Aug. 12, 1862 ; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Thomas Lee, private, mustered in Aug. 12, 1862; mustered out 
with company May 24, 1863. 

Lewis Laurent, private, mustered in Aug. 12, 1862 ; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Festus Lyon, private, mustered in Aug. 12, 1862; mustered out 
with company May 24, 1863. 

William A. Mores, private, mustered in Aug. 12, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Joseph F. Morley, private, mustered in Aug. 12, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

GoPHAR Morgan, private, mustered in Aug. 12, 1862; discharged 
on surgeon's certificate Nov. 20, 1862. 

Abner Miller, private, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862 ; discharged 
on surgeon's certificate Dec. 31, 1862. 

John McGregor, private, mustered in Aug. 12, 1862; wounded 
at Antietam, Md., Sept. 17, 1862; mustered out with company 
May 24, 1863. 

George W. McAlister, private, mustered in Aug. 12, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

James N. McAlister, private, mustered in Aug. 12, 1862 ; de- 
serted Sept. 14, 1862; returned March 31, 1863; mustered out 
with company May 24, 1863. 

Michael E. McIntosh, private, mustered in Aug. 12, 1862; 
prisoner of war from Nov. 14 to Dec. 14, 1862 ; mustered out with 
company May 24, 1863. 

Orrin p. McAllister, private, mustered in Aug. 12, 1862; dis- 
charged on surgeon's certificate Dec. 18, 1862. 

Samuel R. McMahon, private, mustered in Aug. 12, 1862; 
killed at Fredericksburg, Va., Dec. 13, 1862. 

Isaac P. McIntyre, private, mustered in Aug. 12, 1862; died 

275 



Appendix 

near Falmouth, Va., Dec. 22, of wounds received at Fredericksburg, 
Va., Dec. 13, 1862. 

William F. Newell, private, mustered in Aug. 12, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Henry A. Newell, private, mustered in Aug. 12, 1862 ; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Chester Northrop, private, mustered in Aug. 12, 1862 ; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

William Peet, private, mustered in Aug. 12, 1862 ; absent in 
hospital at muster-out. 

James Patterson, private, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862 ; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Richard W. Phillips, private, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Homer T. Rhodes, private, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862 ; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Henry J. Russell, private, mustered in Aug. 12, 1862 ; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

S. Cheney Roby, private, mustered in Aug. 12, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Nehemiah Robinson, private, mustered in Aug. 12, 1862; de- 
serted at Frederick City, Md., Sept. 14, 1862. 

Charles N. Smith, private, mustered in Aug. 12, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Byron B. Slade, private, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Norman C. Shepherd, private, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Edward C. Strong, private, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862 ; dis- 
charged on surgeon's certificate Feb. 7, 1863. 

Barlow Smith, private, mustered in Aug. 12, 1862 ; died at 
Harper's Ferry, Va., Nov. 12, 1862. 

Conrad Schantz, private, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862; deserted at 
Harrisburg Aug. 15, 1862. 

J. O. Van Buskerk, private, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862 ; dis- 
charged on surgeon's certificate Feb. 6, 1863. 

Joseph S. Wilcox, private, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Barnum Wilcox, private, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862 ; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

276 



Appendix 



Norman Wilcox, private, mustered in Aug. 12, 1862; wounded 
at Chancellorsville, Va., May 3, 1863 ; mustered out with company 
May 24, 1863. 

Nathan Wilcox, private, mustered in Aug. 12, 1862 ; wounded 
at Fredericksburg, Va., Dec. 13, 1862, and at Chancellorsville, Va., 
May 3, 1863 ; mustered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Ira V. Williams, private, mustered in Aug. 12, 1862 ; wounded 
at Chancellorsville, Va., May 3, 1863 ; mustered out with company 
May 24, 1863. 

Charles W. Whipple, private, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862; 
wounded at Fredericksburg, Va., Dec. 13, 1862; mustered out with 
company May 24, 1863. 

Charles Williams, private, mustered in Aug. 13, 1S62 ; dis- 
charged on surgeon's certificate Oct. 14, 1862. 

Ezra H. Welch, private, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862 ; died at 
Belle Plain, Va., Dec. 4, 1862. 

W. H. WooDWORTii, private, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862; died at 
Falmouth, Va., Jan. 9, 1863. 

Martin West, private, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862; deserted 
October, 1862. 

COMPANY E. 

Michael Whitmoyer, captain, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Andrew C. Mensch, first lieutenant, mustered in Aug. 15, 1S62; 
mustered out with company May 24, 1863. 

D. Ramsey Melick, second lieutenant, mustered in Aug. 15, 
1862 ; mustered out with company May 24, 1863. 

William A. Barton, first sergeant, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862; 
mustered out with company May 24, 1863. 

William H. Gilmore, sergeant, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

William J. Renn, sergeant, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Charles P. Sloan, sergeant, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862 ; pro- 
moted from corporal Jan. 10, 1863 ; mustered out with company 
May 24, 1863. 

Isaac N. Kline, sergeant, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862; promoted 
from corporal Jan. 10, 1863; mustered out with company May 24, 
1863. 

277 



Appendix 

Benjamin F. Johnston, corporal, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862; 
mustered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Clark Kressler, corporal, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Henry M. Johnston, corporal, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862 ; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Ephraim N. Kline, corporal, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Edward C. Green, corporal, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; pro- 
moted to corporal Nov. 10, 1862; mustered out with company May 
24, 1863. 

John N. Hughes, corporal, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862; pro,- 
moted to corporal Jan. 10, 1863. ; mustered out with company May 
24, 1863. 

James B. Fortner, corporal, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862 ; pro- 
moted to corporal Jan. 10, 1863 ; mustered out with company May 
24, 1863. 

Samuel Wood, corporal, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862; promoted 
to corporal Feb. 25, 1863 ; mustered out with company May 24, 
24, 1863. 

William C. Robinson, corporal, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862; 
discharged at Harper's Ferry on surgeon's certificate Oct. 26, 
1862. 

James P. Melick, corporal, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862; died at 
Washington, D. C, Dec. 28, of wounds received at Fredericks- 
burg, Va., Dec. 13, 1862. 

Clinton W. Neal, corporal, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862; pro- 
moted to quartermaster Aug. 22, 1862. (See Field and Staff.) 

John Staley, musician, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Azima V. HowER, musician, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862; dis- 
charged on surgeon's certificate Jan. 29, 1863. 

Tillman Faux, wagoner, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 23, 1863. 

Lafaye Applegate, private, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Leonard Beagle, private, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Hiram H. Brodt, private, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862 ; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

278 



Appendix 

Jacob W. Bomboy, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

James S. Bomboy, private, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Edward W. Coleman, private, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862 ; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

James W. Cook, private, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

James Cadman, private, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Peter O. Crist, private, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862 ; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Henry Croop, private, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862 ; discharged on 
surgeon's certificate Oct. 8, 1862. 

Thomas Carothers, private, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862; dis- 
charged on surgeon's certificate Feb. 15, 1863. 

Abel Deily, private, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862; mustered out 
with company May 24, 1863. 

John Moore Eves, private, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

John F. Eck, private, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862; mustered out 
with company May 24, 1863. 

Moses J. French, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Clod'y S. M. Fisher, private, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862 ; wound- 
ed at Antietam, Md., Sept. 17, 1862; mustered out with company 
May 24, 1863. 

Charles A. Folk, private, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862 ; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Robert Gillaspy, private, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862 ; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

John P. Guilds, private, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862 ; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Clinton C. Hughes, private, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Henry C. Hartman, Sr., private, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862 ; 
mustered out with company May 24, 1863. 

C. H. Hendershot, private, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

279 



Appendix 

William H. Hunter, private, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Henry C. Hartman, Jr., private, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862; 
mustered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Samuel Harder, private, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862 ; prisoner 
from Dec. 13, 1862, to May 22, 1863 ; mustered out with company 
May 24, 1863. 

Adam Heist, private, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862 ; mustered out 
with company May 24, 1863. 

George W. Howell, private, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862 ; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Samuel Harp, private, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862 ; discharged 
on surgeon's certificate Feb. 13, 1863. 

Isaiah S. Hartman, private, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862 ; died 
Oct. 16 of wounds received at Antietam, Md., Sept. 17, 1862. 

Jesse M. Howell, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862 ; died near 
Falmouth, Va., Jan. 8, 1863. 

Joseph S. Hayman, private, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862; de- 
serted Aug. 30, 1862. 

Samuel R. Johnson, private, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Hiram F. Kline, private, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Thomas O. Kline, private, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862 ; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Samuel C. Krickbaum, private, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862; 
mustered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Amos Y. Kisner, private, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

George M. Kline, private, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Augustus M. Kurtz, private, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Francis M. Lutz, private, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Isaac M. Lyons, private, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Joseph W. Lyons, private, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862; absent 
sick in hospital since Oct. 30, 1862; mustered out with company 
May 24, 1863. 

280 



Appendix 



Joseph Lawton, private, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

John Lawton, private, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

William Lazarus, private, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862 ; killed 
at Antietam, Md., Sept. 17, 1862. 

Daniel Markley, private, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862 ; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Lemuel Mood, private, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862; mustered out 
with company May 24, 1863. 

Charles Muffley, private, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Clark Price, private, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862; mustered out 
with company May 24, 1863. 

Levi H. Priest, private, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862 ; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Oliver Palmer, private, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Joseph Penrose, private, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862; missed in 
action at Fredericksburg, Va., Dec. 13, 1862. 

David Ruckle, private, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862; mustered out 
with company May 24, 1863. 

Josiah Reedy, private, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862; wounded at 
Fredericksburg, Va., Dec. 13, 1862; mustered out with company 
May 24, 1863. 

John Roadarmel, private, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Isaac Roadarmel, private, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Jeremiah Reese, private, mustered in Sept. 3, 1862 ; captured 
at Chancellorsville, Va. ; prisoner from May 3 to May 22, 1863 ; 
mustered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Jonathan W. Snyder, private, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Charles W. Snyder, private, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862 ; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Josiah Stiles, private, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862 ; absent, sick 
in hospital since Sept. 16, 1862. 

Frederick M. Staley, private, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

281 



Appendix 

George W. Sterner, private, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Henry H. Sands, private, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862 ; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

William C. Shaw, private, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862; absent, 
sick, at muster-out. 

James F. Trump, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862 ; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Samuel M. Vanhorne, private, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862 ; died 
at Washington, D. C, Feb. 16, 1863 ; buried in Harmony Burial 
Grounds, D. C. 

Philip Watts, private, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Amasa Whitenite, private, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862 ; wounded 
at Antietam, Md., Sept. 17, 1862; mustered out with company May 
24, 1863. 

Gottlieb Wagoner, private, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Gaylord Whitmoyer, private, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862; dis- 
charged on surgeon's certificate Feb. 17, 1863. 

Samuel Young, private, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Franklin J. R. Zellars, private, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862; 
mustered out with company May 24, 1863. 

COMPANY F. 

George W. Wilhelm, captain, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; dis- 
charged Dec. 5, 1862. 

Jacob D. Laciar, captain, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; wounded 
at Antietam, Md., Sept. 17, 1862; promoted from second lieuten- 
ant Jan. 5, 1863 ; mustered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Thomas Musselman, first lieutenant, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; 
wounded at Fredericksburg, Va., Dec. 13, 1862 ; mustered out 
with company May 24, 1863. 

John Kerns, second lieutenant, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; pro- 
moted from corporal to sergeant Sept. 22, 1862; to second lieu- 
tenant Jan. 5, 1863; mustered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Oliver Breneiser, first sergeant, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; 
wounded at Antietam, Md., Sept. 17, and at Fredericksburg, Va., 

282 



Appendix 

Dec. 13, 1862; promoted to corporal Sept. 22, 1862, to first ser- 
geant Jan. 5, 1863 ; mustered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Jacob Miller, sergeant, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

John Hoff, sergeant, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; promoted from 
corporal Nov. 22, 1862; mustered out with company May 24, 
1863. 

Charles Mack, sergeant, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; promoted 
from corporal March i, 1863 ; mustered out with company May 24, 
1863. 

John Sherry, sergeant, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Oliver F. Musselman, sergeant, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; 
killed at Antietam, Md., Sept. 17, 1862. 

F. C. Wintemute, corporal, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; pro- 
moted to corporal Aug. 18, 1862 ; mustered out with company May 
24, 1863. 

David M. Jones, corporal, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Albert E. Sheets, corporal, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

William Miner, corporal, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

William R. Rex, corporal, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; pro- 
moted to corporal Nov. 22, 1862 ; mustered out with company May 
24, 1863. 

Lewis Trainer, corporal, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; promoted 
to corporal Nov. 22, 1862 ; mustered out with company May 24, 
1863. 

John Schultz, corporal, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; wounded 
at Antietam, Md., Sept. 17, 1862; promoted to corporal Jan. 2, 
1863; mustered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Joseph Schadel, corporal, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; died at 
Belle Plain, Va., Nov. 28, 1862. 

George W. Duryea, corporal, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; de- 
serted Aug. 16, 1862, from Camp Curtin. 

Edwin Seyfried, musician, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; dis- 
charged on surgeon's certificate Feb. 25, 1863. 

Bar't Armbruster, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

283 



Appendix 



David Arner, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mustered out 
with company May 24, 1863. 

William Allen, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; captured 
at Fredericksburg, Va., Dec. 13, 1862 ; mustered out vi^ith com- 
pany May 24, 1863. 

August Belsner, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; wounded 
at Chancellorsville, Va., May 3, 1863 ; mustered out with company 
May 24, 1863. 

Thomas Baker, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Daniel Bartley, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; deserted 
Sept. 12, 1862, near Rockville, Md. 

Stephen Cunfer, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Thomas Christine, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Joseph L. Clewell, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; died at 
Harper's Ferry, Va., Oct. i of wounds received at Antietam, Md., 
Sept. 17, 1862. 

Chas. S. Dreisbach, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Joseph B. Dreisbach, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Joseph Drumbore, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; dis- 
charged Jan. 13, 1863, for wounds received at Antietam, Md., Sept. 
17, 1862. 

Peter Everts, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mustered out 
with company May 24, 1863. 

William Everts, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; wounded 
at Fredericksburg, Va., Dec. 13, 1862; mustered out with com- 
pany May 24, 1863. 

Jonathan Eck, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Samuel Everts, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; discharged 
on surgeon's certificate Feb. 13, 1863. 

Owen C. Fullweiler, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; ab- 
sent, sick, at muster-out. 

Amon Fritz, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; wounded at 
Fredericksburg, Va., Dec. 13, 1862; mustered out with company 
May 24, 1863. 

284 



Appendix 

Lewis Frederick, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

William Frantz, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; wounded 
at Antietam, Md., Sept. 17, 1862; absent, sick, at muster-out. 

Aaron H. Gumbard, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Henry Grow, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mustered out 
with company May 24, 1863. 

George H. Gearhard, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862 ; dis- 
charged March 10, 1863, for wounds received at Fredericksburg, 
Va., Dec. 13, 1862. 

Samuel Grow, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; died Dec. 
21 of wounds received at Fredericksburg, Va., Dec. 13, 1862; 
buried at Alexandria ; Grave 630. 

Joseph Hontz, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; wounded at 
Antietam, Md., Sept. 17, 1862; mustered out with company May 24, 
1863. 

Oliver Hoff, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mustered out 
with company May 24, 1863. 

Frederick Hosler, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

John W. Hottenstein, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

George Houser, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Sebastian Hon, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

John Hills, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; deserted Aug. 
16, 1862, from Camp Curtin. 

Alex. Johnson, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Samuel Keene, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Edwin Kemmerfr, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

John Kistler, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; wounded, 
with loss of arm, at Frederick.sburg, Va., Dec. 13, 1862; dis- 
charged, date unknown. 

Daniel Kressley, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; discharged 
on surgeon's certificate Jan. 15, 1863. 

285 



Appendix 

Samuel D. Lynn, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; wounded 
at Fredericksburg, Va., Dec. 13, 1862 ; mustered out with company 
May 24, 1863. 

Levi M. Levy, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; discharged 
on surgeon's certificate Feb. 25, 1863. 

John Lents, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; died Jan. 2, 
1863, of wounds received at Fredericksburg, Va., Dec. 13, 1862. 

Francis H. Moser, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Monroe Martin, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Alexander Mills, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; dis- 
charged on surgeon's certificate Sept. 29, 1862. 

Charles F. Mover, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; died 
Sept. 22 of wounds received at Antietam, Md., Sept. 17, 1862. 

Samuel McCance, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Daniel McGee, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Jacob Notestein, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Valentine Neumover, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Moses Never, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mustered out 
with company May 24, 1863. 

James E. Nace, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; died Jan. 2, 
1863, of wounds received at Fredericksburg, Va., Dec. 13, 1862. 

Enos Olwerstefler, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; wound- 
ed at Fredericksburg, Va., Dec. 13, 1862; mustered out with com- 
pany May 24, 1863. 

Chas. a. Patterson, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Jacob Rodfink, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Leopold Rice, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mustered out 
with company May 24, 1863. 

Jacob Ridler, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mustered out 
with company May 24, 1863. 

Aaron Rex, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; wounded at 
Antietam Sept. 17, 1862; died at Smoketown, Md., Nov. 11, 1862. 

286 



Appendix 

Chas. W. Ramaley, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; died 
at Windmill Point, Va., Jan. 2T, 1863. 

Paul Solt, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mustered out 
with company May 24, 1863. 

William S. Siegfried, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

JosiAH Sandel, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Samuel Steigerwalt, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Lewis Steigerwalt, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; wound- 
ed at Fredericksburg, Va., Dec. 13, 1862; mustered out with 
company May 24, 1863. 

Charles Sinker, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; wounded 
at Antietam, Md., Sept. 17, 1862 ; mustered out with company May 

24, 1863. 

Jacob Strouse, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; wounded at 
Fredericksburg, Va., Dec. 13, 1862 ; mustered out with company 
May 24, 1863. 

Otto Sterner, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; died March 

25, 1863, of wounds received at Fredericksburg, Va., Dec. 13, 1862. 
Francis Solt, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; died Sept. 14, 

1862, at Frederick City, Md. 

Henry Wernstein, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

COMPANY G. 

Robert A. Abbott, captain, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; discharged 
Jan. 13, 1863, for wounds received at Antietam, Md., Sept. 17, 1862. 

Isaac Howard, captain, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862 ; promoted 
from private to first sergeant Jan. i, 1863, to captain Jan. 14, 1863; 
mustered out with company May 24, 1863. 

John C. Dolan, first lieutenant, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; 
wounded at Antietam, Md., Sept. 17, 1862; discharged on sur- 
geon's certificate Jan. 30, 1863. 

William H. Fulton, first lieutenant, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; 
promoted from sergeant March 17, 1863; mustered out with com- 
pany May 24, 1863. 

Edmund H. Salkeld, second lieutenant, mustered in Aug. 15, 

287 



Appendix 



1862; discharged March 17, 1863, for wounds received at Fred- 
ericksburg, Md., Dec. 13, 1862. 

John Weiss, second lieutenant, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; pro- 
moted from sergeant March 17, 1863; mustered out with company 
May 24, 1863. 

Charles Simons, first sergeant, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; pro- 
moted from corporal Feb. 12, 1863 ; mustered out with company 
May 24, 1863. 

Theop. Williams, first sergeant, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; pro- 
moted from private to sergeant, to first sergeant Nov. 13, 1862; 
killed at Fredericksburg, Va., Dec. 13, 1862. 

John I. C. Williams, sergeant, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; 
wounded at Antietam, Md., Sept. 17, 1862 ; mustered out with 
company May 24, 1863. 

Joshua Butler, sergeant, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; promoted 
from corporal Jan. 14, 1863 ; mustered out with company May 24, 
1863. 

William Radcliff, sergeant, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; pro- 
moted to corporal Feb. 16, 1863 ; to sergeant March 17, 1863 ; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Charles Weiss, sergeant, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; promoted 
to corporal, to sergeant Feb. 15, 1863; mustered out with com- 
pany May 24, 1863. 

John Graver, sergeant, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; discharged 
on surgeon's certificate Sept. 9, 1862. 

George Rase, sergeant, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; deserted 
Sept. S, 1862, at Camp Whipple. 

John Osborn, corporal, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; wounded, 
with loss of leg, at Chancellorsville, Va., May 3, 1863 ; discharged, 
date not given. 

David Gabret, corporal, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

William J. Springer, corporal, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

John Leslie, corporal, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mustered out 
with company May 24, 1863. 

Hugh Collan, corporal, mustered in Aug. 13, 1862 ; promoted 
to corporal Feb. 26, 1863 ; mustered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Peter Leaser, corporal, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; promoted to 
corporal Feb. 26, 1863 ; mustered out with company May 24, 1863. 

288 



Appendix 

William H. Noble, corporal, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; dis- 
cl;arged on surgeon's certificate Feb. 4, 1863. 

Elijah Youtz, musician, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; discharged 
on surgeon's certificate Dec. 22, 1862. 

Charles Abner, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mustered 
out with company Ma}' 24, 1863. 

Joseph Backert, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

George Buck, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; deserted 
August 16, 1862, at Camp Curtin. 

Joseph Conley, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1S63. 

Peter Cassady, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

William Callahan, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

William Davis, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mustered out 
with company May 24, 1863. 

Bernard Dempsey, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

James Derbyshire, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862 ; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Michael Dougherty, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

W. M. Darlington, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; died at 
Washington, D. C, of wounds received at Fredericksburg, Va., 
Dec. 13, 1862. 

Patrick Elliott, private, mustered in Aug 15, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

John Earley, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; discharged 
on surgeon's certificate Jan. 31, 1863. 

John Ephlin, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; killed at Fred- 
ericksburg, Va., Dec. 31, 1862. 

Patrick Fleming, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Conrad Fry, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; discharged 
Dec. 9 for wounds received at Antietam, Md., Sept. 17, 1862. 

Andrew Floyd, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; died near 
Falmouth, Va., March 2, 1863. 

19 289 



Appendix 

Charles Holmes, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

William Hay, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mustered out 
with company May 24, 1863. 

Morgan Jenkins, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Christian Klingle, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Matthew Kelley, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

William F. Klotz, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

John F. Klotz, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; captured 
Dec. 12, 1862; absent, at camp parole, AnnapoUs, Md., at muster- 
out. 

Bernard Kelly, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862 ; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

WiLLouGHBY KooNS, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; wounded 
at Antietam, Md., Sept. 17, 1862; absent at muster-out. 

John Knauss, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; discharged 
on surgeon's certificate Feb. 16, 1863. 

William F. Krum, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; died at 
Smoketown, Md., of wounds received at Antietam Sept. 17, 1862; 
buried in National Cemetery, Sec. 26, Lot B, Grave 180. 

Henry Lange, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862 ; mustered out 
with company May 24, 1863. 

William Leed, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mustered out 
with company May 24, 1863. 

Jonas Locke, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; discharged 
on surgeon's certificate Dec. 24, 1862. 

Henry Mansfield, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Jonathan L. Miller, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Mannes Mayer, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; died at 
Smoketown, Md., of wounds received at Antietam, Sept. 17, 1862. 

Edward P. Meelick, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; killed 
at Antietam, Md., Sept. 17, 1862. 

Luke Masterson, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; deserted 
Aug. 16, 1862, at Camp Curtin. 

290 



Appendix 

John McGovern, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; discharged 
April 10, 1863, for wounds received at Antietam, Md., Sept. 17, 1862. 

Michael McCullough, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; killed 
at Antietam, Md., Sept. 17, 1862. 

James Patterson, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Alfred Poh, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mustered out 
with company May 24, 1863. 

Michael Reily, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Hugh Reily, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mustered out 
with company May 24, 1863. 

Hugo Ronemus, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Jonathan C. Ruch, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; died at 
Smoketown, Md., of wounds received at Antietam, Sept. 17, 1862. 

Thomas Rigby, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; deserted 
Sept. II, 1862, at Boonsborough, Md. 

Paul Sowerwine, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

David Shaffer, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862 ; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Jacob Shingler, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Bernhard Smith, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Thomas Smitham, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Robert Synard, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

John Stacy, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mustered out 
with company May 24, 1863. 

William Schoonover, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

H. B. Schoonover, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

John F. Salmon, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; promoted 
to commissary-sergeant Aug. 15, 1862. 

Thomas Sproll, wagoner, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; wounded 
at Antietam, Md., Sept. 17, 1862; absent at muster-out. 

291 



Appendix 



John Toner, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; deserted Aug. 

16, 1862, Cainp Curtin. 

John Weisly, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mustered out 
with company May 24, 1863. 

Weaver Tilghman, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Henry Wintersteen, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; dis- 
charged Feb. 28, 1863, for wounds received at Antietam, Md., Sept. 

17, 1862. 

Michael Welsh, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; discharged 
on surgeon's certificate March 20, 1863. 

RuFUS Walters, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; deserted 
Aug. 16, 1862, Camp Curtin. 

Edward Yemmons, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

COMPANY H. 

George W. John, captain, mustered in Aug. 16, 1862; resigned 
Dec. 9, 1862. 

Martin M. Brobst, captain, mustered in Aug. 16, 1862 ; promoted 
from first Heutenant Dec. 9, 1863 ; mustered out with company May 
24, 1863. 

Isaiah W. Willits, first lieutenant, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862 ; 
promoted from first sergeant Dec. 9, 1862 ; mustered out with 
company May 24, 1863. 

Henry H. Hoagland, second lieutenant, mustered in Aug. 16, 
1862 ; died Dec. 14 of wounds received at Fredericksburg, Va., 
Dec. 13, 1862. 

P. R. Margerum, second lieutenant, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862 ; 
promoted from corporal Dec. 16, 1862 ; mustered out with company 
May 24, 1863. 

A. H. Sharpless, first sergeant, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862 ; pro- 
moted from corporal Dec. 16, 1862; mustered out with company 
May 24, 1863. 

Samuel h. Savory, sergeant, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

George Reedy, sergeant, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; promoted to 
corporal Jan. 22, 1863 ; mustered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Hiram W. Brown, sergeant, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; promoted 
to corporal Jan. 22, 1863 ; mustered out with company May 24, 1863. 

292 



Appendix 

William McNeal, sergeant, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Theodore Kreigh, corporal, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

RoLANDUS Herbine, corporal, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Samuel J. Frederick, corporal, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Francis M. Thomas, corporal, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862 ; 
wounded at Fredericksburg, Va., Dec. 13, 1862 ; mustered out with 
company May 24, 1863. 

John P. Hoagland, corporal, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; pro- 
moted to corporal Nov. 21, 1862; mustered out with company May 
24, 1863. 

Ephraim L. Kramer, corporal, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; pro- 
moted to corporal Jan. 20, 1863 ; mustered out with company May 
24, 1863. 

D. Hollingshead, corporal, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; promoted 
to corporal Jan. 20, 1863 ; mustered out with company May 24, 
1863. 

Theobald Fields, corporal, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; promoted 
to corporal Jan. 20, 1863 ; wounded at Chancellorsville, Va., May 3, 
1863 ; mustered out with company May 24, 1863. 

George Harber, musician, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Burton W. Fortner, musician, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862 ; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Morgan G. Drum, wagoner, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862 ; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

H. H. Brumbach, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

John R. Brobst, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

William H. Berger, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; wounded 
at Chancellorsville, Va., May 3, 1863 ; mustered out with company 
May 24, 1863. 

William Beaver, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862 ; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Joseph Brumbach, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

293 



Appendix 

John Bell, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; mustered out 
with company May 24, 1863. 

Julius A. Barrett, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862 ; dis- 
charged on surgeon's certificate Jan. 31, 1863. 

John Bates, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; discharged on 
surgeon's certificate February, 1863. 

William J. Brumbach, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862 ; dis- 
charged Feb. 2, 1863. 

Christian Clewell, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862 ; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Phineas Cool, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862 ; discharged 
on surgeon's certificate January, 1863. 

Hiram Cool, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862 ; discharged 
January, 1863, for wounds received at Antietam, Md., Sept. 17, 1862. 

John Dillon, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; mustered out 
with company May 24, 1863. 

William H. Dyer, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862 ; died at 
Belle Plain, Va., December, 1862. 

John Derr, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; killed at Fred- 
ericksburg, Va., Dec. 13, 1862. 

Albert Erwine, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862 ; died at Belle 
Plain, Va., Dec. 15, 1862; buried in Military Asylum Cemetery, D. C. 

William Fetterman, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Daniel Fetterman, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862 ; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Christopher M. Fedder, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Henry B. Fortner, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Samuel A. Fields, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Lloyd W. B. Fisher, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862 ; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Jacob G. Fisher, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

John D. Fincher, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; discharged 
on surgeon's certificate, date unknown. 

Scott Hite, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; mustered out 
with company May 24, 1863. 

294 



Appendix 



John Hampton, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; absent, 
sick, at muster-out. 

Arthur Harder, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862 ; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Thomas E. Harder, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862 ; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Ethan Hampton, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

W. H. H. Hartman, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862 ; dis- 
charged on surgeon's certificate April 12, 1863. 

Clark Harder, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; discharged on 
surgeon's certificate Jan. 21, 1863. 

George H. Hankins, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; died 
Oct. 4; bu. rec, Oct. 10; of wounds received at Antietam, Md., 
Sept. 17, 1862; buried in National Cemetery, Sec. 26, Lot B, Grave 
221. 

Henry T. John, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

William E. John, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Jeremiah S. Kreigh, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862 ; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Edward KLramer, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Ralph M. Lashell, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Emanuel L. Lewis, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862 ; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

John Ludwig, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; mustered out 
with company May 24, 1863. 

James P. Margerum, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862 ; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

William Marks, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862 ; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Joseph Martz, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862 ; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Adam R. Mensch, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Comodore p. Mears, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862 ; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

295 



Appendix 

Charles Maloney, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862 ; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Isaiah W. Mastellar, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Patrick McGraw, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862 ; died at 
Warrenton, Va., Nov. 6, 1862. 

John F. Ohl, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; mustered out 
with company May 24, 1863. 

Irvin C. Payne, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

William J. D. Parks, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; died 
Dec. 28 of wounds received at Fredericksburg, Va., Dec. 13, 1862; 
buried in Military Asylum Cemetery, D. C. 

David Phillips, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862 ; killed at 
Fredericksburg, Va., Dec. 13, 1862. 

Tobias Rinard, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Frederick Reese, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862 ; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Lloyd T. Rider, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862 ; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Elias C. Rishel, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; wounded 
at Chancellorsville, Va., May 3, 1863 ; mustered out with company 
May 24, 1863. 

Henry J. Robbins, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862 ; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Jeremiah Rhodes, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; absent, 
sick, at muster-out. 

Wesley Rider, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862 ; died at Belle 
Plain, Va., December, 1862. 

James M. Richards, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862 ; killed 
at Antietam, Md., Sept. 17, 1862. 

Josiah G. Roup, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; died of 
wounds received at Antietam, Md., Sept. 17, 1862. 

Benjamin B. Schmick, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862 ; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Charles S. Schmick, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Jeremiah H. Snyder, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; ab- 
sent, sick, at muster-out. 

296 



Appendix 

Clark B. Stewart, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

John H. Stokes, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862 ; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Jesse Shoemaker, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

John M. Sanks, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; discharged 
by special order Oct. 14, 1862. 

George F. Sterne, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862 ; killed at 
Antietam, Md., Sept. 17, 1862. 

Christian Small, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862 ; killed at 
Chancellorsville, Va., May 3, 1863. 

Lewis Thiele, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; mustered out 
with company May 24, 1863. 

Samuel M. Thomas, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862 ; died 
at Falmouth, Va., Jan. 8, 1863. 

John Troup, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; died Oct. 4 of 
wounds received at Antietam, Md., Sept. 17, 1862. 

Dennis Waters, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Robert M. Watkins, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Monroe C. Warn, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Daniel L. Yeager, private, mustered in Aug. 17, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 



COMPANY I. 

James Archbald, captain, mustered in Aug. 18, 1862; discharged 
on surgeon's certificate Jan. 7, 1863. 

Philip S. Hall, captain, mustered in Aug. 18, 1862; promoted 
from second lieutenant Jan. 14, 1863 ; wounded at Chancellors- 
ville May 4, 1863 ; absent in hospital at muster-out. 

Robert R. Meiller, first lieutenant, mustered in Aug. 18, 1862 ; 
discharged Jan. 7, 1863, for disability. 

Benjamin Gardner, first lieutenant, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; 
promoted from sergeant Jan. 14, 1863 ; mustered out with company 
May 24, 1863. 

297 



Appendix 



Michael Houser, second lieutenant, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; 
promoted from private Jan. 14, 1863 ; mustered out with company 
May 24, 1863. 

George A. Wolcott, first sergeant, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; 
promoted from corporal Jan. 14, 1863 ; mustered out with com- 
pany May 24, 1863. 

George W. Conklin, first sergeant, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; 
discharged on surgeon's certificate Jan. 18, 1863. 

John M. Miller, sergeant, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

John Jones, sergeant, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mustered out 
with company May 24, 1863. 

Isaac Cornell, sergeant, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; promoted 
from corporal Jan. 14, 1863 ; mustered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Abram Bittenbender, sergeant, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; pro- 
moted from corporal Jan. 14, 1863 ; prisoner from May 6 to May 
22, 1863 ; mustered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Orlando Taylor, sergeant, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; dis- 
charged on surgeon's certificate Dec. 4, 1862. 

Alfred J. Barnes, corporal, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Joseph Sharpe, corporal, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; taken pris- 
oner at Hillsboro, Va., Nov. 8, 1862, exchanged Jan. i, 1863 ; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Owen J. Bradford, corporal, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

William H. Hagar, corporal, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; pro- 
moted to corporal Jan. 4, 1863; mustered out with company May 
24, 1863. 

Reed G. Lewis, corporal, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862 ; promoted to 
corporal April 15, 1863 ; mustered out with company May 24, 1863. 

James A. Sargent, corporal, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; pro- 
moted to corporal Jan. 14, 1863 ; mustered out with company May 
24, 1863. 

Robert Gray, corporal, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; discharged 
on surgeon's certificate Oct. 6, 1862. 

Daniel S. Gardner, corporal, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862 ; killed 
at Antietam, Md., Sept. 17, 1862. 

Orrin C. Hubbard, musician, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

298 



Appendix 

Theodore Keifer, musician, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Joseph S. Quinlain, wagoner, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Thomas Allen, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Moses H. Ames, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; killed at 
Antietam, Md., Sept. 17, 1862. 

George L. Bradford, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

William Bracy, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

John Burnish, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Nathaniel D. Barnes, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

James Barrowman, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; wounded 
at Chancellorsville, Va., May 3, 1863 ; mustered out with company 
May 24, 1863. 

Thomas Barrowman, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Brooks A. Bass, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; promoted 
to quartermaster-sergeant Jan. i, 1863. (See Field and Staff.) 

Milton Brown, private, mustered in Aug. 16, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Lewis A. Bingham, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; deserted 
Jan. I, 1863; returned March 27, 1863; mustered out with company 
May 24, 1863. 

John Berry, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; discharged 
at Fort Wood Hospital, N. Y. Harbor, on surgeon's certificate 
March 13, 1863. 

Abijah Bersh, Jr., private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862 ; deserted 
Sept. 19, 1862. 

Burton J. Capwell, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862 ; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Thomas Carhart, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; discharged 
on surgeon's certificate, date unknown. 

George H. Cator, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; died Oct. 
30 of wounds received at Antietam, Md., Sept. 17, 1862; buried 
in National Cemetery, Sec. 26, Lot C, Grave 228. 

299 



Appendix 

Horace A. Deans, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862 ; promoted 
to hospital steward Oct. i, 1862; returned to company April 6, 
1863 ; mustered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Frederick M. Ellting, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862 ; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

H. L. Elmandorf, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; deserted 
at Warrenton, Va., Nov. 15, 1862. 

Edward Ferris, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; wounded at 
Chancellorsville, Va., May 3, 1863 ; mustered out with company 
May 24, 1863. 

John Fern, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mustered out 
with company May 24, 1863. 

George E. Fuller, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Henry M. Fuller, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Benton V. Finn, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; discharged 
on surgeon's certificate Jan. 19, 1863. 

John Finch, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; discharged on 
surgeon's certificate March 28, 1863. 

William Gunsauler, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

John Gahn, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862 ; wounded at Freder- 
icksburg, Va., Dec. 13, 1862 ; mustered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Elisha R. Harris, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Samuel Hubbard, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

J. HiPPENHAMMER, private, mustered in Aug. 16, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Charles Hamm, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Richard Hall, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

William H. Harrison, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Henry P. Halstead, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; dis- 
charged on surgeon's certificate Jan. 5, 1863. 

William Hazlett, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; dis- 
charged on surgeon's certificate Jan. 2, 1863. 

300 



Appendix 

John L. Hunt, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; deserted at 
Acquia Creek, Va., Feb. 15, 1863. 

Roderick Jones, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; wounded at 
Antietam, Md., Sept. 17, 1862; absent, in hospital, at muster-out. 

John J. Kilmer, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

H. L. Krigbaum, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; wounded 
at Fredericksburg, Va., Dec. 13, 1S62; mustered out with com- 
pany May 24, 1863. 

Michael Kelly, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

George C. Lanning, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Thomas Z. Lake, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Lyman Milroy, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862 ; prisoner 
from May 6 to May 22, 1863 ; mustered out with company May 24, 
1863. 

George Meuchler, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

James J. Maycock, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; wounded 
at Antietam, Md., Sept. 17, 1862; mustered out with company May 
24, 1863. 

Stephen Moomey, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

James H. Miller, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Robert O. Moscrip, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

James S. Morse, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; discharged 
on surgeon's certificate Oct. 29, 1862. 

Joseph Niver, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mustered out 
with company May 24, 1863. 

Aaron Orren, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mustered out 
with company May 24, 1863. 

John Owen, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; discharged on 
surgeon's certificate Feb. 11, 1863. 

John E. Powell, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; captured at 
Chancellorsville, Va. ; prisoner from May 6 to May 22, 1863 ; 
mustered out with company May 24, 1863. 

301 



Appendix 

Charles Pontus, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

James A. Parker, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; deserted at 
Harper's Ferry, Va., Oct. 29, 1862. 

Freeman J. Roper, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Elezer Raymond, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; wounded 
at Fredericksburg, Va., Dec. 13, 1862; mustered out with com- 
pany May 24, 1863. 

Nelson Raymond, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; wounded at 
Chancellorsville, Va., May 3, 1863 ; absent, in hospital, at muster-out. 

James S. Randolph, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; dis- 
chared on surggeon's certificate Jan. 21, 1863. 

George W. Ridgeway, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; dis- 
charged on surgeon's certificate, date unknown. 

Daniel Reed, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; killed at Antie- 
tam, Md., Sept. 17, 1862. 

William H. Smith, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

William H. Seeley, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Laton Slocum, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Michael Sisk, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

John Sommers, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Richard A. Smith, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; died Oct. 
15 of wounds received at Antietam, Md., Sept. 17, 1862. 

Orvice Sharp, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; died Nov. 
16, 1862. 

Reily S. Tanner, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862 ; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

James L. Tuthill, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; prisoner 
from May 6 to May 22, 1863 ; mustered out with company May 24, 
1863. 

Henry Vusler, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; deserted 
Sept. 18, 1862. 

David J. Woodruff, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

302 



Appendix 

Samuel Wiggins, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Daniel Winnich, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Burr C. Warner, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

John B. West, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; killed at 
Antietam, Md., Sept. 17, 1862. 

Harrison Young, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

COMPANY K. 

Richard Stillwell, captain, mustered in Aug. 18, 1862 ; dis- 
charged March 31, 1863, for wounds received at Fredericksburg, 
Va., Dec. 13, 1862. 

Jacob B. Floyd, captain, mustered in Aug. 18, 1862 ; promoted 
from first lieutenant March 31, 1863; mustered out with company 
May 24, 1863. 

Noah H. Jay, first lieutenant, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862 ; pro- 
moted from second lieutenant March 31, 1863; mustered out with 
company May 24, 1863. 

Sylvester Ward, second lieutenant, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862: 
promoted from sergeant to first sergeant Dec. 25, 1862 ; to second 
lieutenant March 31, 1863; mustered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Francis Orchard, first sergeant, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; 
promoted from sergeant March 31, 1863; mustered out with com- 
pany May 24, 1863. 

George M. Snyder, sergeant, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862 ; pro- 
moted from corporal Sept. 24, 1862; mustered out with company 
May 24, 1863. 

John Bottsford, sergeant, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; promoted 
from corporal Sept. 24, 1862 ; mustered out with company May 24, 1863. 

William C. Keiser, sergeant, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862 ; pro- 
moted from corporal March 31, 1863; mustered out with company 
May 24, 1863. 

Martin L. Hower, sergeant, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862 ; died 
Oct. 17 of wounds received at Antietam, Md., Sept. 17, 1862. 

Philetus p. Copeland, corporal, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; 
wounded at Chancellorsville, Va., May 3, 1863 ; mustered out with 
company May 24, 1863. 

303 



Appendix 



George Coursen, corporal, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

George A. Kent, corporal, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; v/ounded 
at Antietam, Md., Sept. 17, 1862; mustered out with company May 
24, 1863. 

George W. Johnson, corporal, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862 ; pro- 
moted to corporal Sept. 24, 1862 ; mustered out with company May 
24, 1863. 

John S. Short, corporal, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862 ; promoted 
to corporal Sept. 24, 1862 ; wounded at Fredericksburg, Va., Dec. 
13, 1862; absent in hospital at muster-out. 

George H. Taylor, corporal, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862 ; pro- 
moted to corporal Sept. 24, 1862 ; mustered out with company May 
24, 1863. 

Emil Haugg, corporal, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; promoted to 
corporal March 31, 1863; mustered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Austin F. Clapp, corporal, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; promoted 
to sergeant-major Nov. i, 1862. (See Field and Staff.) 

Lorenzo D. Kemmerer, musician, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

William Silsbee, musician, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

John M. Kapp, wagoner, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862 ; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Augustus Ashton, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862 ; taken 
prisoner at Fredericksburg, Va., Dec. 13, 1862; mustered out with 
company May 24, 1863. 

David Brooks, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862 ; mustered out 
with company May 24, 1863. 

Charles H. Boon, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862 ; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Lewis H. Bolton, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Adolf Bendon, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; discharged 
on surgeon's certificate Dec. 6, 1862. 

Charles A. Bulmer, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; dis- 
charged on surgeon's certificate Oct. 14, 1862. 

William H. Carling, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862 ; pro- 
moted to adjutant's clerk January 25, 1863; mustered out with com- 
pany May 24, 1863. 

304 



Appendix 

William W. Coolbaugh, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; 
wounded at Chancellorsville, Va., May 3, 1863; mustered out with 
company May 24, 1863. 

Harrison Cook, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Jacob M. Corwin, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862 ; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

John CooLrAUCH, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

William H. Coon, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862 ; discharged 
on surgeon's certificate Nov. 29, 1862. 

Moses Y. Corwin, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862 ; promoted 
to hospital steward April 6, 1863. (See Field and Staff.) 

Benjamin A. C. Daily, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862 ; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Francis J. Deemer, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; promoted 
to sergeant-major Jan. 24, 1863. (See Field and Staff.) 

Richard Davis, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; died Jan. 
2, 1863, of wounds received at Fredericksburg, Va., Dec. 13, 1862; 
buried in Military Asylum Cemetery, Washington, D. C. 

Thomas D. Davis, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; died near 
Washington, D. C, Nov. 25, 1862 ; buried in Military Asylum Ceme- 
tery, Washington, D. C. 

Jacob Eschenbach, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; killed 
at Antietam, Md., Sept. 17, 1862. 

Charles Frederick, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

George Gabriel, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; wounded at 
Chancellorsville, Va., May 3, 1863 ; mustered out with company May 
24, 1863. 

John C. Higgins, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862 ; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Peter Harrabaum, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

James H. Havenstrite, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

George Hindle, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Edward F. Henry, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; dis- 
20 305 



Appendix 

charged from Emory Hospital, Washington, D. C, on surgeon's 
certificate Jan. 8, 1863. 

Wilson Hess, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; discharged 
on surgeon's certificate Feb. 21, 1863. 

John P. Heath, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; deserted on 
march from Antietam to Harper's Ferry, Sept. 21, 1862. 

Michael Kivilin, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Robert Kennedy, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Jesse P. Kortz, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; died near 
Falmouth, Va., Dec. 25, 1862. 

George W. Linn, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Andrew Landsickle, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862 ; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

John Lindsey, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; mustered out 
with company May 24, 1863. 

George Matzenbacher, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862 ; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Samuel W. Mead, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

William L. Marcy, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

George B. Mack, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862 ; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Charles A. Meylert, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; pro- 
moted to second lieutenant Co. A, Feb. 24, 1863. 

Jeptha Milligan, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; killed at 
Antietam, Md., Sept. 17, 1862; buried in National Cemetery, Sec. 
26, Lot A, Grave 13. 

Richard Nape, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862 ; mustered out 
with company May 24, 1863. 

Daniel J. Newman, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862 ; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

John R. Powell, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Joseph Pellman, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862 ; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

306 



Appendix 



Downing Parry, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

John Ryan, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; mustered out 
with company May 24, 1863. 

Samuel Ruple, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Simon P. Ringsdorf, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; dis- 
charged on surgeon's certificate Feb. 6, 1863. 

George Smithing, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Henry M. Seager, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862 ; wounded 
at Fredericksburg, Va., Dec. 13, 1862 ; mustered out with company 
May 24, 1863. 

Daniel W. Scull, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862 ; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Joseph Snyder, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862 ; mustered out 
with company May 24, 1863. 

Simon P. Snyder, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

William D. Snyder, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Charles B. Scott, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Peter Seigle, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862 ; mustered out 
with company May 24, 1863. 

John Scott, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; mustered out 
with company May 24, 1863. 

Walter A. Sidner, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Martin L. Smith, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

James Stevens, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

John Stitcher, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; discharged 
Nov. 28, 1862, on account of wounds received at Antietam Sept. 17, 
1862. 

Allen Sparks, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862 ; died Sept. 
18 of wounds received at Antietam, Md., Sept. 17, 1862. 

Obadiah Sherwood, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; died 

307 



Appendix 



Nov. 20 at Smoketown, Md., of wounds received at Antietam Sept. 
17, 1862. 

Samuel S. Snyder, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; died at 
Philadelphia, Pa., Jan. 9, 1863. 

James Scull, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; died near 
Falmouth, Va., Feb. 11, 1863. 

Solon Searle, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862 ; died at Acquia 
Creek, Va., Jan. 26, 1863. 

Alonzo L. Slawson, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; dis- 
charged, date unknown. 

Leander J. Smith, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862 ; deserted 
from Camp Whipple Sept. i, 1862. 

David Vipon, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862 ; mustered out 
with company May 24, 1863. 

George C. Wilson, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862 ; wounded 
at Antietam, Md., Sept. 17, 1862; mustered out with company May 
24, 1863. 

Martin Wilmore, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862 ; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Orestes B. Wright, private, mustered in Aug. 15, 1862 ; wounded 
at Fredericksburg, Va., Dec. 13, 1862 ; mustered out with company 
May 24, 1863. 

John Westphall, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

Henry C. Whiting, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; dis- 
charged on surgeon's certificate Nov. 27, 1862. 

John W. Wright, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; died at 
Harper's Ferry, Va., Oct. 23, 1862. 

Albert Wheeler, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; deserted 
from Walnut Street Hospital, Harrisburg, Dec. 19, 1862. 

Conrad Young, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862 ; mustered 
out with company May 24, 1863. 

William H. Young, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

W. L. Yarrington, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; mus- 
tered out with company May 24, 1863. 

Daniel C. Young, private, mustered in Aug. 14, 1862; died Dec. 
26 of wounds received at Fredericksburg, Va., Dec. 13, 1862. 

308 



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